What a difference a week can make. I feel like God has reconstructed my heart.

What a difference a week can make. I feel like God has reconstructed my heart.

Jo Wheatley gave me “The Shack” to read. It was a life changer. God spoke clearly to me through this book. He used it to renew my trust in Him, to know that He is with me and wants to be the centre of my life. I can feel His presence in my heart.

Yesterday, we stayed home from church and had home church. Afterwards, the boys and I were playing Risk together. Something funny happened and we all laughed. Joshua turned to Drew and said, “The old dad is back!” But rather than the old dad, I feel like the new, improved Dad.

During our weekly prayer time, I wanted to pray and enjoyed it — it has been a long time since I have felt like that about prayer.

I confessed some long standing sins to Nicola today: nothing major but they were still hidden sores in our relationship. God gave us grace to forgive each other and renew our openness.

I can trust God. That’s the big change, the freedom. God is big and trust worthy — even when I don’t understand what He’s doing! He hasn’t made a mistake. He isn’t being mean. He isn’t punishing me for something that I did, or something I should have done but I didn’t. He is a good God in everything that happens.

This afternoon I caught myself starting to worry that I won’t continue to feel like this, that I’d better make sure I pray lots so that I will keep this feeling of God-closeness. But that struck me as foolish. Whether I do keep feeling like this, God is still here and can still be trusted.

We travelled out to Malawi today to fetch Peter from boarding school. The car very nearly didn’t make it. It has been a comedy of errors and breakages, but thankfully we managed to arrive before the car completely fell apart.

We travelled out to Malawi today to fetch Peter from boarding school. The car very nearly didn’t make it. It has been a comedy of errors and breakages, but thankfully we managed to arrive before the car completely fell apart.

Yesterday, the car battery died. It’s only a year since we bought it, but it was nasty, made-in-China brand and it probably did well to survive as long as it did. I spent the day riding my bike around town trying to find a replacement, but no one had the right type. One guy had an old battery stuck on a top shelf and he wanted AUD$300 for it! In the end, I “stole” one of the batteries from another missionary’s car (they are away at the moment).

We gave Diana and Josué a lift to Mandimba, but when we tried to start the car to leave again, nothing happened: no engine, no lights, not even a tiny solenoid click. Under the hood, the problem was obvious: the terminal connector had snapped clean in two. Searching through Mandimba eventually located someone selling new terminal connectors, plus 30 minutes of regigging (obviously, the new screws aren’t going to fit the old fittings), and we were on our way again.

About an hour outside of Blantyre, our front wheels started to wobble — badly. We managed to reach Blantyre without the wheel falling off, but it felt like a near thing.

So we arrived: cracked windscreen, borrowed battery, replaced terminal connector, non-working brakes, bald tires, and badly wobbly wheel. Our car has served us very well, but it seems to be approaching its end of life :-)

It has been the worst time over the past month. Car problems, lack of motivation, and spiritual apathy have made this a horrible time.

It has been the worst time over the past month. Car problems, lack of motivation, and spiritual apathy have made this a horrible time.

Our windscreen has a meter long crack and has to be replaced. The brakes on the car are almost not working. They will stop the car, but they required advance warning, preferably in writing. I have tried everything to fix them, including buying (and installing myself) a new master cylinder, but nothing has helped.

The worst is that I haven’t been myself. In fact, I’ve been a grump with extra grump: impatient and short tempered. When I haven’t been grumpy, I’ve been low.

I know the root of the problem: I am not trusting God. I know that He can take care of us, but I don’t trust that He will. Our finances are OK, but will not cover all the repairs our car needs. I know God can provide it, but I don’t trust that he will. I find myself worrying about money, how we will pay the bills at the end of the month, or worrying about a job and a place to live when we return to Australia. Instead of trusting, I am worrying.

Writing it here, I know it is stupid. God always has provided for us. But my heart isn’t accepting it at the moment. It is an awful place to be.   

A relative of a church member had died and the church had planned to hold a culto de consolação in their house. The service was supposed to start at 2pm. At 2:15pm, I decided it was time to go to the Pastor Marcelino’s house. Outside, it was 39 degrees in the shade. I could either walk to his house (having more time to greet people) or take the bike (having less time to be grilled by the sun). I took the bike.

A relative of a church member had died and the church had planned to hold a culto de consolação in their house. The service was supposed to start at 2pm. At 2:15pm, I decided it was time to go to the Pastor Marcelino’s house. Outside, it was 39 degrees in the shade. I could either walk to his house (having more time to greet people) or take the bike (having less time to be grilled by the sun). I took the bike.

At the pastors house, I was surprised to see that several members of the church were already there. I tried to sit on the bamboo mat with the others, but they never let me do that. They fetched me a chair, and we all squeezed into the shade of the verandah. Not even the Mozambicans want to be in the sun at this time of year.

The pastor was cleaning himself up after having spent the morning in his machamba, harvesting a type of bean they like to use in their stews. He must have been baking in his field this morning, and then he rode his bike back carrying a sack of beans. This man works hard to make his living.

As expected, a lot of the conversation centered on the cholera outbreak. The big white tents are outside the hospital again, which is never a good sign. They use these tents to house people with cholera, in semi-quarantine. People are afraid to go to hospital because they might be placed in the tents — the exception being those who actually have cholera who are so sick they don’t care about anything.

There has been a programme of spraying houses with pesticides to try and lower the rate of malaria. Most days you can see groups of men in overalls wandering over the bairros with overalls and atomizers, offering to spray people’s houses for free. The cause is a good one, but people’s fear is such that their purpose can be misunderstood. In the pastor’s bairro, one group of sprayers was attacked by people who accused them of infecting people with cholera! They said that the government wants them to get cholera so they will die and then the government will sell their body parts!

We decided who would be doing what within the culto, and then ambled over to the church member’s house. On the whole it was a surprisingly formal affair. More like a mini-church service than a comforting visit. If some people from Figtree went to visit a bereaved church member, they would not hold a mini-church service. But they did here. There was even an offering, which, thankfully, was given to the family and not kept for the church. Immediately after the “service” everyone left again.

This all seemed very odd to me — which of course is the sign of a true cross-cultural experience.

Why did they hold a service? Is that what they think is best? Is that what they have been taught is best? Does the formality of the service link to something traditional? Traditionally, how did the community comfort the bereaved? Did the chief make a formal visit, say a few things and then leave again? Even if he did, is that the right model for the church to follow?

In Kenya, when the church visited someone whose relative had died, the visit was a few words, some prayers, and then sitting in silence for quite a while. Talking was not necessary. Here, we said more and stayed less.

Today is our fifth day without telephone or internet. We had three days last week without both, plus five days this week. This is not a good time to be without any communication. We’d love to be able to talk to Karen in Australia, given her situation there.

Today is our fifth day without telephone or internet. We had three days last week without both, plus five days this week. This is not a good time to be without any communication. We’d love to be able to talk to Karen in Australia, given her situation there.

We had an interesting conversation with some of the church leadership today. They were explaining why it was better for a man and woman to live together before they were married.

We had an interesting conversation with some of the church leadership today. They were explaining why it was better for a man and woman to live together before they were married.

“This race is very complicated,” they said, pointing to their skins. “How can you know what someone is like until you live with them?”

They gave two examples of situations where people were married first, without living together. And two days after the wedding, both women moved out, deciding that they didn’t want to be married to their husbands.

“So, it’s better to live together for a few months to find out what the person is like. After that, you can get married in the church and in the registry if you want.”

We explained (again) that God’s way (not the missionaries’ way) was to decide to stay together for life, and only after that decision, to start living together. If both the man and the woman make this decision, things work out better than the “try before you buy” approach. The idea of deciding to stay with someone for your whole life seems very strange to them.

We have seen the “try before you buy” approach at work in our church just recently. A man came and asked one of our church ladies to be his wife. He went and visited the pastor. He even came and visited us: he explained about how marriage should be and told us his plans for being involved in church. We were so pleased. The lady in question was a lovely Christian lady, and it seemed that she had found a nice Christian man to be her husband.

However, after two months of “trying,” he decided not to “buy.” Instead, he decided he wanted his “money back” — literally. He moved out and wanted to be repaid for the clothes he had bought her and the improvements he had helped her make to her house. Obviously, she was devastated, feeling both used and betrayed.

One more example of why “try before you buy” is much worse than God’s plan.

The national director of Christian Vision, the provincial superintendent of Niassa, and the pastor from Lichinga made a flying visit yesterday. They were supposed to arrive today, spend a leisurely day with the church leadership, hold a service, and then leave the next day. Reality was far more rushed than that. But it was still good to have them visit.

The national director of Christian Vision, the provincial superintendent of Niassa, and the pastor from Lichinga made a flying visit yesterday. They were supposed to arrive today, spend a leisurely day with the church leadership, hold a service, and then leave the next day. Reality was far more rushed than that. But it was still good to have them visit.

They arrived at 6pm, held a hurried service, then had dinner with the leadership in our dependencia (where they were staying). The national director is a Brazilian and it was good to get to know him better. Christian Vision is the organisation that funded the construction of many churches in the northern half of Mozambique, as well as paying Brazilian missionaries to help start the churches. Our church was one of those started in this manner.

The painful summary of the last couple of weeks is that Dinho had stolen the iPod and our mobile phone. He also confessed to having stolen quite a few other things while he was living with us. Even though we had suspected some of this, we were still terribly hurt. We have decided that Dinho cannot enter our house again, and for the next year, there will be a complete break between our families.

The painful summary of the last couple of weeks is that Dinho had stolen the iPod and our mobile phone. He also confessed to having stolen quite a few other things while he was living with us. Even though we had suspected some of this, we were still terribly hurt. We have decided that Dinho cannot enter our house again, and for the next year, there will be a complete break between our families.

Needless to say, Dinho was full of remorse and promises to behave differently. He even returned our iPod as a sign of good faith, I guess. To be precise, what actually happened was that Dinho brought us back the iPod. The next day, a man we knew appeared at our gate, saying he wanted to speak to Dinho, because Dinho had sold him an iPod and then stolen it back again! He was threatening to send Dinho to jail if he didn’t return either the iPod or the money he paid for it. We paid the man his money so that Dinho didn’t go to jail. So, Dinho stole our iPod and we bought it back from the man he sold it to.

Dinho was hopeful that we might continue to give him and his family 500MT each month, as we had been doing. I said that we would not.

I know that not everything can be explained, but I can’t shake the suspicion that we (I) went horribly wrong at some point. What should I have done differently to avoid this whole mess?

Was I not clear enough on limits and consequences?

One problem for Dinho was that he living in two worlds. He had our world, with its computers, music, iPod, nice house, birthday and Christmas presents. But he was only visiting this world. He still belonged to the world of Cuamba, with its poverty, unreliable friends, lack of just about everything. When he was in this world, the people around him always wanted things from him, things taken from our world. And so he had a constant temptation to steal, and a desire to steal as well as a way to gain friends and status.

Had he been an orphan, we could have adopted him, he would have been our son, and our world would have been his world. I think the temptation to steal would have been far less for him if he knew our world was his world. But we could not adopt him. He had both parents still living in our town, plus older and younger siblings.

No good news to report, I’m afraid. Our bike and its thief have not been found. Dinho spent Saturday out of the house (apparently looking for the thief), arrived for dinner on Saturday night, and then went back to his house to sleep. On Sunday morning, we couldn’t find my iPod or my mobile phone (and still haven’t).

No good news to report, I’m afraid. Our bike and its thief have not been found. Dinho spent Saturday out of the house (apparently looking for the thief), arrived for dinner on Saturday night, and then went back to his house to sleep. On Sunday morning, we couldn’t find my iPod or my mobile phone (and still haven’t).

We haven’t seen Dinho since then. The boys went to visit him in his house this afternoon. His mum said that he hasn’t been there for the past three days. His clothes are gone from the house. He hasn’t been to his Dad’s house.

Of all the people in Cuamba, Dinho and his family are the ones we have supported the most consistently. Dinho lived with us continuously for almost a year when his family disintegrated, and has lived on and off with us for the past two years. I know this sounds corny, but we really did treat him like a son, including limits and discipline. Because he has lived with us so much, he has also been taught/discipled more than anyone else has here.

Last time my iPod was stolen, I was furious for days. This time, I’m strangely at peace. I’m not happy, but I’m not particularly worried. It’s just a thing. I can buy another one. But I’m sad that this relationship is broken. I’m worried at what Dinho has decided internally. Eternally, the bike, phone and iPod are junk — dust that hasn’t fallen apart yet — but Dinho’s decision could last far longer than that.

The best of all possible worlds would be that Dinho is hot in pursuit of the thief, and will eventually return with thief and stolen bike in tow, and then he will show us the place in our house where he put the iPod and phone, proving that he didn’t take them at all. Bigger miracles than that have occurred. It is possible, but I fear, not probable.

One of our bikes was stolen today. Dinho had borrowed it (without our permission) and was visiting some friends. At one house, he left the bike in the care of someone he thought he could trust, but when he came back, the bike and the one guarding it were gone. He spent most of today running around trying to find the guy and the bike. He even came back and borrowed a second bike (again without asking) to cover more ground in his search. Late this afternoon, someone noticed that two bikes were gone from the garage, which is how we knew there was trouble even before Dinho came back.

One of our bikes was stolen today. Dinho had borrowed it (without our permission) and was visiting some friends. At one house, he left the bike in the care of someone he thought he could trust, but when he came back, the bike and the one guarding it were gone. He spent most of today running around trying to find the guy and the bike. He even came back and borrowed a second bike (again without asking) to cover more ground in his search. Late this afternoon, someone noticed that two bikes were gone from the garage, which is how we knew there was trouble even before Dinho came back.

Dinho came back home around dinner time. When I asked him about the bikes, he eventually told me what had happened. I asked him why he hadn’t told us sooner, and he said that he knew that we would blame him for the theft, so he wanted to try and get the bike back without us knowing that it had been taken.

We were not very happy with him. He had taken the bike without asking, something that we had specifically told him not to do. He had also taken it before school, so it seemed that he was planning to take it to school, something we had forbidden him to do.

I want to believe him. But both Nicola and I have our suspicions. In the gap between when we knew there was a problem with the bikes and when Dinho came home, Snr Vincent told us that Dinho had been talking with Dia-Feliz (Snr Vincent’s son) at the beginning of the week, saying that he (Dinho) would have lots of money this week and wanted to buy some gems. Where was this money going to come from?

One thing we don’t like about living here is the level of suspicion it generates in us. So many people lie to us that it is difficult to believe what many people say.

Continuing with my sad stories, the inescapable problem is that almost everyone is poor here. As soon as anyone has a little money, everyone they know flocks around them, asking for money. And they really do need it.

Continuing with my sad stories, the inescapable problem is that almost everyone is poor here. As soon as anyone has a little money, everyone they know flocks around them, asking for money. And they really do need it.

People can live (just) on what they grow, but there is nothing left over to sell, so there is no cash for the economy. No cash for school fees, hospital visits, school books and uniforms. If you are a widow or orphan, you are completely stuck because you can’t even grow your food.

Another big problem is injustice: in particular, employers do not deal fairly with their employees.

When people have a job, there is no certainty that they will receive a salary. Sometimes, the employers simply do not pay them. Within our immediate circle, we know of four cases like this. When we were in court, we heard two separate cases where an employee had not been paid for several months, so they stole something from the employers, and were now in court (and on their way to jail) for theft. The fact that the employers had not paid them anything for months was not seen as mitigating circumstances.

Other times, the salary is ridiculously low. One church member was being paid less than 50MT (AUD$2) a day for heavy labour (unloading 50kg bales of cotton). This is enough for him to buy a bag of maize and a bag of beans each month — but with nothing left over.

A few families/businesses in town are extremely rich. When I’m waiting in line at the bank, I regularly see people depositing literally hundreds of thousands of meticais (tens of thousands of dollars). There is money around, but it stays in the hands of the rich.

I can now see what God made such a big issue of dealing honestly with your employees in the Old Testament.

I haven’t written here for a while. This isn’t because a lack of material. It’s just that the stories are mostly sad, and I’m tired of writing sad stories. But I supposed I should write them up, since they are truly what is happening here.

I haven’t written here for a while. This isn’t because a lack of material. It’s just that the stories are mostly sad, and I’m tired of writing sad stories. But I supposed I should write them up, since they are truly what is happening here.

In no particular order:

• John is a pastor of a church that we have known for about four years. I’ve never been entirely certain about him. He came to see me yesterday to say that his wife of 15 years had left him. He came back from a bible study, and she was gone, along with all her clothes, most of the kitchen equipment, and all the food. She left their children behind with him. According to him, about two months ago, she told him that she was tired of being poor, and that she was going to start making beer to sell so that they wouldn’t be poor. He said that they couldn’t — they were the leaders of a church. So she started drinking. Early this week, the leaders of the church ladies came to “give counsel” to her, about how she should be behaving. Two days later, she was gone. Her family does know where she is (or at least isn’t saying).
  
  So now he is alone, with two children, no food in the house, no money, no (paying) job. His church is not helping materially (why is this?). He said that he and the children had fasted yesterday and today. I don’t think the fasting was voluntary :-) He came hoping for help — preferably long-term, well-paid work — but he was happy for anything. The best I can do is give him some money for food, but that’s not even a medium-term solution. In a week’s time, he will have nothing again.
• Pastor Marcelino’s nephew, who had been living with them for almost a year, stole their money and fled. He found their savings in their house, and then (I think) went to someone who owed the pastor money and pretended to be collecting the debt, and then fled back to his father’s house in Marrupa (300km away). They found out because the nephew’s father send a message to the pastor saying what a good son the nephew was, that the son had managed to save from his salary all this money and was now buying things for the family! True to form, Pastor Marcelino is not angry with his nephew, but says he has left the subject in God’s hands. I think I would be struggling more to forgive someone who stole all our savings.

Nicola had been helping some people in their desire to start businesses. The goal is to help people escape from the poverty cycle, but it is a depressingly difficult task.

• Erminio is a young man who is a regular member of our church. He worked about 10 days for us in order to gain money to start a business. We gave him his pay, as well as a gift, and helped him to buy his initial stock. He seemed to understand at least some of the basics of business. As soon as his friends and family knew that he had some money and stock, the requests started to arrive. His friends wanted to borrow just a little bit of money, and they would pay him back tomorrow. Neighbours just need one packet of sugar and they would pay for it later. His family reminded him that he was living with them, eating their food, and that he should contribute to the family funds. Within a few weeks, almost all his stock was gone and there was not enough capital to buy more. End of story.
• Maula is another lady that Nicola has been helping with a small business. This is earring-making business. Using some cheap materials that Nicola bought in Thailand, Maula has been making earrings and selling them for 10MT a pair (about 40c). Maula makes the earrings, then goes around selling them sort of door-to-door. Through this, she managed to earn enough money to buy a sack of maize for her family. While she was out of the house one morning, a man (apparently from our church?) came and stole the sack of maize. All her effort went for nothing.

January is normally a hungry time in this part of Mozambique. The maize from last year is gone; the new maize is not yet grown. The price of a sack of maize normally doubles during January. Because of this, there are always portions of the various rural communities that are hungry. No one starves, but there are some very lean days.

January is normally a hungry time in this part of Mozambique. The maize from last year is gone; the new maize is not yet grown. The price of a sack of maize normally doubles during January. Because of this, there are always portions of the various rural communities that are hungry. No one starves, but there are some very lean days.

So today, we were trying to deliver 1.3 tonnes of maize to Chiuta today. It didn't work.

The road that we were supposed to following was completely washed out. It was more of a gully than a road. Even to reach that point, I had already had to pull Steven's car out of the mud twice.

On the way back, things were worse. The ground that had supported the cars on the way in was now churned up. Our LandCruiser managed to force its way through the muddy and slippery patches, but Steven's Land Drover has a slightly lower clearance, and had a lot more problems.

We managed to pull the Land Drover out of threes bogs, but at the cost of breaking my towrope and burning out Steven's winch.

Not five minutes after breaking the towrope, his car was bogged again, and this time it was stuck fast. We had to unload the 700kg of maize, dig the wheels and transmission out of the mud. Then we had to manually lift the car, at the same time as towing it and driving it to finally get it free.

We returned home sweaty and dirty, still with our maize in tow. The people in Chiuta are still hungry, and the only thing we can say is that we really did try. It has rained all this evening, so it is unlikely that we will be able to pass that road for at least a week or two.

Stories like this never make it into the glossy magazines.

We have been having many troubles with rumours and backbiting in the church. We can see that God is doing good things, bringing people to know Him, but there have been these constant murmurings against the pastor. And as far as I can tell, they are baseless, but persistent nevertheless.

We have been having many troubles with rumours and backbiting in the church. We can see that God is doing good things, bringing people to know Him, but there have been these constant murmurings against the pastor. And as far as I can tell, they are baseless, but persistent nevertheless.

We had a meeting this afternoon to try to nail down exactly where these stories were coming from. After three hours of talking, one of my discipleship group confessed that he had invented the stories and that they were completely untrue. This completely floored me! I had trusted completely this man. Of the people in the group, he had my highest esteem. I almost wanted to argue with him, saying it can’t be you.

On the face of things, I haven’t done particularly well with my discipleship group this time. One man murmurs against the pastor; another is a liar; the third has just left his wife. I did pray that God would bring those He wanted into this discipleship group, so it will be interesting to see what happens in their lives as we continue.

In my heart, I am disappointed. I was hoping for more from these men.

I have to work at not being judgemental. Once I start remembering my own life, that task becomes easier. I’m sure God has a wry smile at the irony of me being a leader of a discipleship group.

Like Arthur Dent and Thursdays, I’ve never got the hang of New Years Eves. Other people seem to enjoy them, but I always get the New Years Eve blues. I like holidays: Easter is a good reminder of Jesus, Christmas is a lovely family time, even Queens Birthday weekend reminds me of when Nicola and I started dating. But I don’t know what to do with New Year Eves.

Like Arthur Dent and Thursdays, I’ve never got the hang of New Years Eves. Other people seem to enjoy them, but I always get the New Years Eve blues. I like holidays: Easter is a good reminder of Jesus, Christmas is a lovely family time, even Queens Birthday weekend reminds me of when Nicola and I started dating. But I don’t know what to do with New Year Eves.

New Years Eve is a big celebration here. It’s honoured in the same way as in Australia: through inebriation. Outside, there are groups of drunken people wandering up and down our street. They sing loudly and badly, shout abuse at each other, and will probably not make it home before collapsing. Remind me again: what’s the attraction here?

The boys wanted to stay up until midnight, but they were exhausted and I packed them off to bed at 10pm. Nicola was asleep before 11pm. At midnight, I’ll go and wish them a happy new year, but I doubt they’ll even notice. And so will start another year.

But I don’t want this year to be like the last one. Last year, I lost my focus too easily. I didn’t apply myself as I could have. I had a shockingly bad prayer life. I hid away in my office, rather than visiting.

Please Lord let me be different this year. I want to spend time praying. I want to have a passion to do what is right. Please help me to keep my focus. Help me to bring all the abilities you have given me to bear on the situations that are here. Help me to Act As If I was a godly man, even when I’m not.

I want to be different this year.

Sometimes God arranges things so well. Technically, He always arranges things perfectly, but sometimes the arrangement is more obvious than others.

Sometimes God arranges things so well. Technically, He always arranges things perfectly, but sometimes the arrangement is more obvious than others.

For the past week, we have been broke. Our accounts in both Australia and Mozambique were empty. In truth, it wasn’t a particularly serious situation. We had enough food in the house. Our salary would arrive before the end of the month. There were other people in town from whom we could borrow money if we really needed it. But it was the complete lack of cash in hand that stressed me out.

I find being poor a serious test of faith. Will God really provide? What if He doesn’t? Whenever the worries come into my head (and that happens a lot!), I struggle to trust God. Last week, when we realised that our money would run out, God spoke fairly clearly to me, saying trust me! So I have been trying: sometimes succeeding, sometimes not doing so well.

On a whim this morning, I checked the value in our Australian account. I was stunned. Some of our wonderful friends had put $1000 into it! I went with tears in my eyes (corny but true) to tell Nicola about this wonderful blessing.

More than blessing just us, we can now help other families here. There are at least 4 widows and their families who we can now help that we couldn’t help before.

Next time, when I am worrying about money, I will try to remember this provision. Hopefully, I will learn.

It was Joshua’s birthday yesterday. He turned thirteen, and he is so big! I gave him a lesson in shaving with his new razor.

It was Joshua’s birthday yesterday. He turned thirteen, and he is so big! I gave him a lesson in shaving with his new razor.

For his party, we went to the river at Metucwe. This was OK, but didn’t work out as well as we’d hoped. Dinho didn’t show up in time to come with us — in fact, he didn’t show up at all until 7pm! Joshua was quite upset with that. We thought there might have been some problem in his house, so we went to fetch him from there. But there wasn’t any problem: he wasn’t there, and hadn’t arrived in our house. Even later, he couldn’t explain to us where he had been.

The river was much lower than we expected: enough for splashing, but not enough for jumping or swimming. We cooked sausages and marinaded chicken on a charcoal BBQ, and had coleslaw and drinks as well.

After we came back, all the boys came to sleep over at our house. Some of us watched Batman Begins; others took turns playing multiplayer on the computers. Then all of them piled onto six mattresses in the spare room and sort of went to sleep — eventually.

A little light came on in the dashboard today: “t-belt” glowing an ominous orange. What’s a “t-belt”? A badly translated safety belt warning? I wish!

A little light came on in the dashboard today: “t-belt” glowing an ominous orange. What’s a “t-belt”? A badly translated safety belt warning? I wish!

I asked Steven about it, and he said it was the timing belt light. “Is that easy to replace?” I asked hopefully. He just laughed. Not reassuring.

It seems like it’s a major repair, and if it’s not done, the engine just stops working de vez! So it seems we’ll be making the trip to Blantyre again, and paying again for a major repair on our car. What joy!

Gee, I must be feeling low today.

Another month has gone. Nicola has come back. The heat has arrived in force. Incomplete sentences, save time, lose coherence.

Another month has gone. Nicola has come back. The heat has arrived in force. Incomplete sentences, save time, lose coherence.

Stories to tell.

Faztudo, Maula, and sickle cell anaemia.

Dinho had a private chat with me this evening. It seems that Nina has been playing around.

Dinho had a private chat with me this evening. It seems that Nina has been playing around.

When Dinho and I had our talks our faithfulness in marriage, he had often asked about what happens if she is unfaithful to me? My normal answer was that if the man is kind and faithful, the woman almost certainly would stay faithful. He said that it wasn’t like that here: girls run after someone with money or promises of money. So I’d stress the issue of choosing wisely again.

So, here we are, one or two months after they have been “married” and she seems to be playing around. [I’ll stick with “seems” because things are almost always more complicated than they first appear]. She didn’t deny anything when Dinho found her together (alone) with another man in his house. No sign of remorse or repentance.

He is worried about getting AIDS, which is a true problem here. Again, in our talks, when both partners are faithful there is no chance of AIDS, but if one is playing around, that is certainly no longer true.

He wants to let her go. And that is the problem. He is too keen to find a reason to no longer be married. He wants to dodge the responsibility. I can understand the worry about getting sick, and, yes, I know that, biblically, he can now get a “divorce” (whatever that looks like here). But that smacks too much of legalism for my liking. Forgiveness and restoration is God’s more painful route. But, with two non-believers, that seems like an unlikely prospect.

She’s now saying that she doesn’t want to stay in Cuamba. She wants to go back to Macuba. He won’t go there to live; all his support is here in Cuamba. Another broken family in the making.

Nicola left for Thailand today. She’s going to be away for two weeks! What was I thinking when I agreed to that! Last time she went away for more than a few days, I told her that I hoped she enjoyed it, because she would never be doing it again :-) What happened to that resolve, that insight, that definiteness?

Nicola left for Thailand today. She’s going to be away for two weeks! What was I thinking when I agreed to that! Last time she went away for more than a few days, I told her that I hoped she enjoyed it, because she would never be doing it again :-) What happened to that resolve, that insight, that definiteness?

She’s going to Thailand for a MK education conference. I really hope it’s an encouraging time for her. I definitely think that she’s going to have more fun than I am :-)

Nicola called me today while I was in the study and said I had to go and speak with Dinho. A little puzzled, I went outside to where Dinho was sitting on the bench under the mango tree. “Dad,” he said, “I’m going to be a father.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t speaking of the distant future; he was speaking of the next 6 months.

Nicola called me today while I was in the study and said I had to go and speak with Dinho. A little puzzled, I went outside to where Dinho was sitting on the bench under the mango tree. “Dad,” he said, “I’m going to be a father.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t speaking of the distant future; he was speaking of the next 6 months.

I sat quiet for a while, letting him speak. While he was staying with his brother in Macuba, he met this girl and they slept together. Two months later, she called him to say that she was pregnant and that he was the father. “What am I going to do?” he said.

I have to admit, I didn’t know. He is 16, no job, no schooling, no land. He still lives with this mother, and is more interested in listening to music than earning money. He’s still a kid.

More than anyone except Joshua and Drew, I have taught Dinho. In particular, we’d talked about marriage and family. He doesn’t want to treat his kids the way that his father treats him. His father left his mother (his first wife) and has lived with various other women. His mother has had various other men, many of whom beat her. None of the stepfathers or stepmothers want anything to do with him.

He doesn’t want that sort of life for his kids. He wants to have a stable family. So we’ve talked about the need to choose a wife carefully, because once you have chosen, you cannot change. That woman is your wife for the rest of your lives.

But now on a whim he sleeps with this girl and she’s pregnant. What can he do?

After the story, his first statement was that the child might not be mine. She might have slept with others too. Typical first response: dodge responsibility. It was so predictable, it was almost funny.

So, we went through the “you slept with her you take responsibility” argument. We also cut off the line of “having something done” to the baby. You have made a mistake, but God can make it right again. Don’t make it worse by fixing your mistake with an even bigger one.

He’s going to bring Nina to live with them here in Cuamba. In fact, she’s already here (this is the reason he hasn’t been staying over at our house very much recently).

I know God can work out situations like this for good. My mum and dad are still together after a similar shaky start. But they had two supportive families around them to help. The family structure could handle the extra load for a while.

But here the family structure is already shot. Dinho’s mum will not be around much longer. His father couldn’t care less. His brothers are less than no help. Her parents sent her off to another city to be looked after by a jobless 16 year old, so they don’t seem particularly interested in taking care of her.

We are here, so that is one solid support they will have, but we are only here for a couple more years. After that, it will be tricky.

Lord, please let this somehow work out well.

Nicola went away this weekend to teach a ladies conference in Mandimba. She left yesterday morning and came back this evening. The car was crammed full of ladies from our church and from a couple of satellite churches. I’d guess there were 14 ladies, plus assorted kids, bags and sacks, when they left, with another lady and baby to be picked up on the way.

Nicola went away this weekend to teach a ladies conference in Mandimba. She left yesterday morning and came back this evening. The car was crammed full of ladies from our church and from a couple of satellite churches. I’d guess there were 14 ladies, plus assorted kids, bags and sacks, when they left, with another lady and baby to be picked up on the way.

Nicola said the teaching went OK, and everyone else said that she was wonderful. It was typical African conference. The church in Mandimba was not at all ready for them, even though we had spoke with them several times during the week.

God really has been blessing the ladies in our church. They are praying together regularly and fasting once a week. New people are coming to church and sometimes being saved.

On Friday, the ladies visited a neighbour who had come to church for the first time. The neighbour said that she wanted to become a Christian. So the ladies all gathered around her and prayed for her. While they were praying, the neighbour went rigid and she spoke in a strange voice, “It’s burning. It’s burning. I’m coming out!” The ladies continued to pray for her, and eventually she relaxed. Soon after, she started to dance around and sing Hallelujah.

She said that she used to have trouble sleeping because of bad spirits. In fact, she used to leave her house and run around naked! But since the ladies prayed for her, she has slept without trouble or fear.

It was clear that Satan did not want Nicola to go to this conference. I try not to see an evil spirit behind every bad thing that happens, but sometimes the barrage seems too concentrated to be simple chance. On Friday our car broke (wouldn’t start), and a power socket in the kitchen shorted out, then on Saturday morning: a pipe broke in our bathroom covering the floor in water; our pump stopped working; we noticed our freezer had stopped working (and once more everything inside had gone bad!); our internet connection broke; and this was all before Nicola left at 8am!

So when Nicola left, I had a fair number of things to do to keep me busy :-)

Pastor Marcelino and I went to visit the church in Harera today. They have been building themselves a new church and we wanted to see how it was progressing before the church handed over some of its savings to help.

Pastor Marcelino and I went to visit the church in Harera today. They have been building themselves a new church and we wanted to see how it was progressing before the church handed over some of its savings to help.

As we were leaving town, I stopped at the ATM to get some money to buy diesel for this trip and Nicola’s trip on the weekend. We could see some men digging to trench towards the local telecommunications centre. There has been a big push recently to hook all the local exchanges up to fibre optic cable, even in the farthest part of the country like Cuamba. The trench was the cable arriving in Cuamba.

When I returned to the car, the pastor pointed out an unhealthy looking rat, that was staggering around near the ATM. “You see that. That is a feiticeiro (male witch) which is going to steal money from people after they get it out of the machine.” I looked at the rat, which did look a bit odd standing there, but I certainly could not see any wads of money in its paws.

Pastor Marcelino is one of the most sensible people I know, but he knew that the rat was a witch. I looked from the rat, and back to the trench: fibre optic cable on one side, and a witch-rat thief on the other. I understand only one of these worlds, but to people here, they are both real. In fact, the witch-rat is probably more real than a cable made of plastic that uses light to allow people to talk to someone on the other side of the world. Which seems more incredible?

It seems like this is going to be one of the trying times of year.

It seems like this is going to be one of the trying times of year.

• Our water pump broke on Wednesday, so we have been living with bucket water. Of course, there is not an exact replacement in town, so we had to buy a different pump and try to shoehorn that into the existing pipes. This is much easier said than done. Steven conjured minor miracles to make it work at all, but there is still a fair amount of improvement needed.
• I went for our monthly shop yesterday, and it seems that I left a big box of groceries behind somewhere. Either that, or they were stolen from the back of our car. I went back to the shop where I bought the groceries, hoping that I might have simply forgotten to put them in the car, but no such luck.
• Before we left for holidays, we were pleased to see that Hortencia’s marriage seemed to be mending. Her husband had come back and solemnly promised that there would be no more trouble. Yesterday, we found out the he has left again, and gone back to the woman he was playing around with before. Hortencia was so upset. It breaks our heart to see her so sad. Just to add another thing, both Serio and Reginaldo have been sick with diarrhoea and vomiting.
• Alcerio visited yesterday. Alcerio is a 15 year old orphan that we’ve been helping. Before holidays, we gave him some money to finish a small mud and grass house, and to buy some new clothes for school. Yesterday he told us that his house had caught fire and burned down, including all his clothes and school supplies. Do I believe that? I’m not sure.
• On top of everything, it’s hot: 38 degrees yesterday, 37 the day before.

I know that as a missionary we are supposed to have faith in God, and always see the good and the positive in all situations. I know that being concerned by a missing box of groceries, a freezer of rotten meat or a broken pump is a clear sign of misplaced priorities. In the big scheme, they count for nothing, and that is how much importance I should give them. But put together I’m finding them very irritating.

I’m struggling to find the good in this barrage.

But, of course, that is the time for perseverance! Having just taught Hebrews, I know there is a lot in the bible about persevering. You only have to persevere when things are difficult, when life is not giving you the “ice cream and nice cheese” tour. No one ever said, “He was very strong. He persevered through those times of prosperity, happiness, holidays and ice cream.”

No. It is when the church members are wavering, the water and power are both off, and the radio is playing country western music that we really have to decide to continue. Exercising my will to say this is not going to finish here.

We came home from holidays and SLC yesterday. There was a horrible smell coming from our house. The electricity to our house had gone off, and the contents of the fridge and our deep freezer had gradually followed suit. All our frozen chickens, our stored meat, our flour and grains, everything that we normally store in the freezer was green and disgusting. Not the sort of thing that you usually want to find when you come home from holidays :-)

We came home from holidays and SLC yesterday. There was a horrible smell coming from our house. The electricity to our house had gone off, and the contents of the fridge and our deep freezer had gradually followed suit. All our frozen chickens, our stored meat, our flour and grains, everything that we normally store in the freezer was green and disgusting. Not the sort of thing that you usually want to find when you come home from holidays :-)

Nicola volunteered to clean out the fridge and freezer, while I dealt with the car, the kitchen itself, and the problem of getting the energy back. I certainly had the easier task.

I like going on holidays, and I especially like coming home again, but finding these problems in the house dampens the homecoming enthusiasm.

Two portable DVD players disappeared from our house yesterday. We packed them away in the morning and they were gone in the afternoon. We searched the house from top to bottom. We asked the people who work for us if they had seen them. Nothing. They had simply disappeared. This is distressing in a couple of ways:

Two portable DVD players disappeared from our house yesterday. We packed them away in the morning and they were gone in the afternoon. We searched the house from top to bottom. We asked the people who work for us if they had seen them. Nothing. They had simply disappeared. This is distressing in a couple of ways:

• These were special gifts to the boys from my parents.
• They were our main way of watching DVD since our normal DVD player died a couple of months ago
• But worst of all, this means that someone we trust is stealing from us. The only people who came into our house yesterday were our staff and some of the boy’s friends. I would have said that all of these people were completely trustworthy, but it seems that is not the case.

The last one hurts the most. These kids regularly eat with us and sleep over. I just can’t believe that they would steal from us. Our suspicion is that one of the kids is being pressured by some older boys, who are known thugs, to steal things from our house. But, unfortunately, anything is possible.

For all their stealing smarts, the thieves are really quite dumb. They stole the DVD players, but they left the power adaptors. There are no batteries in the players, so they are effectively useless. But they are still gone.

How should we deal with this problem? Do we simply overlook it and continue as if nothing has happened? Do we take all the boys friends to the police and accuse them? Do we talk to the parents of each? Do we fire our staff, just in case it was one of them? Do we lock everything of possible value into a cabinet, and the kids can only take out one thing at a time?

We think that we will simply have to forbid all kids from coming into our house. They are welcome to come and play, but everyone has to stay outside. No more eating together or sleeping over. But that seems like a miserable kind of friendship.

I hate being suspicious of people. Someone is a thief, and the rest are not. The thief is stealing more than just electronics: he is robbing our trust and our friendship from people who really do deserve those things.

Last night we tallied up the things that have gone missing from our house. It was quite a list: 3 GameBoys, all of the GameBoy games, Jenny’s mobile phone, an MP3 player, an iPod, Joshua’s scientific calculator, a micro-tape recorder, several DVDs, various amounts of money, and now the DVD players. Some of these things we later recovered (like the GameBoys), but were then stolen a second time!

People aren’t afraid to steal from pastors and missionaries. Pastor Marcelino used to have a flock of about 20 chickens, and they were gradually all stolen. It turned out that two of the local teenagers were using them to make fried chicken to sell. According to them, they stole the pastor’s chickens because:

• they knew if they were caught, the pastor wouldn’t take them to the police.
• they knew that the chickens wouldn’t be cursed. There is a deep-seated belief that things can be cursed so that if anyone except the owner eats them, that person’s stomach will swell up and explode.

So the pastor was the perfect target.

Hortencia came to see us late this afternoon. Someone had broken into her house while she was at work this morning. They stole her clothes, the little savings she had, her food for the week. She was crying while she explained this to us.

Hortencia came to see us late this afternoon. Someone had broken into her house while she was at work this morning. They stole her clothes, the little savings she had, her food for the week. She was crying while she explained this to us.

There is no point in reporting it to the police. There are a dozen such burglaries every day, and the police have no real ability (or interest) to track down the thieves. If you can say who did the stealing, they will track them down and arrest them, but without a name, they are more or less stuck.

Why steal from someone who is already dirt poor? Why target her? She had a couple of shirts, one or two kapalanas, and maybe 200MT (AUD$10) of savings. It’s soul destroying to work and save and then having someone steal what you have worked so hard to earn.

There are some aspects of life here that I won’t miss. I don’t like having to manage staff. Actually, I quite like some parts of it — chatting, helping, planning — but the chastising and confronting side is the bit I don’t like. Today, we had evidence and witnesses that one of our guards has been stealing from us. This means I will have to dismiss him, but that’s a distressing task.

There are some aspects of life here that I won’t miss. I don’t like having to manage staff. Actually, I quite like some parts of it — chatting, helping, planning — but the chastising and confronting side is the bit I don’t like. Today, we had evidence and witnesses that one of our guards has been stealing from us. This means I will have to dismiss him, but that’s a distressing task.

When I confront him, he will deny it. He will say that thieves took the material. He will say that the witnesses are lying and simply out to get him. He will ask me to give him one more chance. The last man we dismissed (we’ve only ever dismissed one) got down on his knees and begged and cried not to be dismissed.

This man has a new wife and family. Life will not be easy for him after he’s been dismissed. I know this.

But, how can I trust him to guard my family while I’m away? If he has stolen from us once, won’t it be easier to steal again? If we don’t dismiss him, isn’t that a signal that anyone can steal from us with impunity?

My natural side is quick to list these arguments, but inside is that small voice asking things like: where do grace and mercy come into this? Is this a situation where mercy should overrule justice? Should we just pardon him? Isn’t that what God does with us? Yancey’s book is full of examples of unreasonable grace, where people do not get what they deserve. If we dismiss him, how are we any different from secular people?

[Thursday, 2 August] After talking to the person in question, it seems he had a good explanation for what was seen. No one actually saw him take things from our house — they only saw him walking away from our house carrying suspicious things. Lesson: always hear both sides of the story before reaching any decision. Justice and wisdom require it.

During a very flat church service this morning, I realised something: I’ve become one of the establishment. In the classic case of “new missionary with new ideas” vs. “old missionary with old ideas,” I’m the old missionary. What a horrible thought.

During a very flat church service this morning, I realised something: I’ve become one of the establishment. In the classic case of “new missionary with new ideas” vs. “old missionary with old ideas,” I’m the old missionary. What a horrible thought.

Actually, it’s not quite so horrible. I suppose I simply have a broader understanding. I can actually see why the “old” missionary might want to stay with the “old” ideas: “new” does not always mean “better.” Some “new” ideas are actually old ones that simply didn’t work.

These thoughts were sparked by Pastor Marcelino’s report on a pastor’s conference that he had attended during the week. Some AOG missionaries from America had come and were going to train evangelists to work in our province. They had carried out a similar plan in Malawi and had had great success. So now, they were coming here to do the same thing. The plan was to train men for a year in the US, and then bring them back and send them out to places where there was no church presence. The church would have to pay a minimal amount (about US$100) per person for the training, and the mission organisation would cover all the other costs.

Several warning bells were going off in my head while the pastor was explaining this to the congregation. There are several major problems with this style of training.

Firstly, it attracts the wrong sort of people. America and its wealth is the Promised Land. Looking around, I could see several of the young men, positively light up at the idea of going to America for a year, but I don’t think any of them would make good evangelists. But they will apply simply to spend the time in America.

Once they are there, it’s tempting for the men to simply not come back. They like the lifestyle so much that they don’t want to return to a poor, rural situation.

While they are there, they are given a place to live, food to eat, money to spend. There is little other choice, since they can’t work to earn their own living. This builds a dependency mentality where it is someone else’s job to provide what I need, and without that, I can’t serve God. Contrast this with virtually all the pastors in Cuamba who work during the day to provide for their families, and then serve as pastors on top of that.

In America, the learning environment has nothing in common with the learning environment here. They learn in lecture theatres, do research in libraries, use high-speed internet, and type their assignments on computers. Here, they won’t have a blackboard or even paper to write on! So, in America they will learn how to teach in America, not how to teach in rural Mozambique.

And as with all “send them off to a college” approaches to education, the man leaves his family behind. He lives for a year without his wife and family. This is strong challenge to the fidelity of most men, let alone those to whom chastity is a very strange concept. The wife is similarly tempted, though she has a large number of other worries to occupy her time, like how to take care of the family by herself and how she can provide food for them.

By the end of the service, I was feeling positively judgemental. Why are they doing this? Don’t they know that it won’t work? Why didn’t they ask for advice from people who live here and have some understanding of what is happening?

The last question was a sign that my indignation wasn’t entirely disinterested. Some part of my vanity was offended that they didn’t talk with me. Maybe there was also a touch of insecurity: maybe I should have been doing that. As well as a dash of jealous: I wish I had the funds to do something like that. I had a judgemental and ungracious attitude in my heart, wanting to show these new guys why their ideas were wrong.

What should be my response to these “new” ideas? The gracious response would be to ask God to bless the plans. It would be fantastic to have more trained evangelists in the unreached villages. These people clearly want to see God’s kingdom grow. They have a plan and the resources to execute it. May God bring those men He wants into this plan, and use them to extend His kingdom. May He also keep those men from falling into temptation, and look after their family while they are separated.

That’s the gracious response, but I’m still working to actually arrive there :-)

The final instalment of Harry Potter was released last night. I went to the local bookstore to see if it had arrived, but strangely enough Cuamba wasn’t on the list of first release sites. But just as interesting as the book itself, is the reaction of various Christians to the whole HP phenomenon.

The final instalment of Harry Potter was released last night. I went to the local bookstore to see if it had arrived, but strangely enough Cuamba wasn’t on the list of first release sites. But just as interesting as the book itself, is the reaction of various Christians to the whole HP phenomenon.

Any Harry Potter release is bound to be accompanied by the usual clamouring from concerned Christians about the dangers that HP represents. Before I had read the books, these worries always seemed quite sincere. But having read all the books several times now, these worries simply seem misguided. Sometimes I wonder if we are actually talking about the same books.

There is a lot of unclear thinking associated with these worries.

The most common faulty argument is “guilt by association.” The concerned authors observe that merchandising related to Harry Potter encourages interest in witchcraft. One article comments with disapproval that the latest Harry Potter toy is a potion making kit. This is faulty thinking. HP books cannot be dismissed simply because someone uses the HP label to make a product we don’t agree with. The situation would be similar to someone dismissing Jesus because an organisation they don’t like used a verse from the Bible to support their policies.

Another problem is simple faulty information. Sometimes, it is painfully obvious that the worries are expressed by people who have not read the books. It is easier to reach neat conclusions if you have not having read the books — but it is hardly just. How can you give a fair appraisal of something you have not read? If you have not read the books, on what will you base your comments? At best, you will only be able to repeat what other people say, but you will have no idea if what they say is accurate.

Without reading the books, it is easy to make factual errors. For example, one website writes, “Harry is a wizard and is training to use supernatural occult powers of astrology, alchemy, divination, spell casting.” Actually, alchemy is not taught and astrology and divination are both held up as objects of ridicule. Similarly, “Characters who have magic powers are portrayed as being 'cool'.” This is simply not true: there are many characters with magic powers that are seriously not cool, of whom Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood are two prime examples.

There seems to be a large degree of fear behind some of these concerns. Sincere pleas that Christian children not be allowed to read them for fear that they will somehow be infected. Anxious comments that anyone who had read them such submit themselves to counselling to ward off the evil influence. Decisions based on fear are rarely God honouring. Rather, they reflect a mindset where the powers of evil are more powerful than the powers of God, and those who want to remain untainted must fearfully avoid a growing list of prohibited influences, including HP books. There are several figures in the New Testament who fearfully avoided anything that might contaminate their purity, but Jesus was not one of them.

So what are we to make of Harry Potter?

HP is not a Christian book. :-).K. Rowlings is a non-Christian and she writes non-Christian books.

For some Christians, no further discussion is necessary: Christians should only read Christian books. For people of this opinion, the only discussion point is what is really a “Christian” book? To be accurate, the only truly Christian book is the Bible, since every author will have faulty theology at some point. For those who are certain they have no faulty theology… QED.

For the rest of us, HP books need to be treated as every other non-Christian book: use with care.

The HP stories are well-written yarns. They tell an intriguing story. There are some very honourable aspects within them: memorable examples of courage, faithfulness, bravery, wisdom, self-sacrifice. There are other aspects that are not in line with God’s standards. Our duty as Christian parents is the same as always: to teach our children to distinguish good from evil. We want to bring up our children in the fear and instruction of the Lord. Part of that process is that we encourage our children to follow honourable examples, while at the same time pointing out where people have left God’s paths. This training in distinguishing good from evil is the mark of Christian maturity.

Whenever we read any sort of book — be it novel, biography, history or textbook, Christian or otherwise — we must apply that same discernment. With the sole exception of Jesus, there is no one whose story we can hold up to our children as the uncritical example of how to live. Even Paul messed up from time to time.

I talked with Joshua and Drew about what they thought of Harry Potter. Joshua commented that HP is fantasy, and if you can’t tell the difference between fantasy and real, then maybe you shouldn’t read the books. That’s a good point. Not being able to distinguish reality from fiction is a serious issue, and its effects are not limited to HP.

In reality, God has forbidden us to deal with sorcery because it is connected with evil powers. But in the fantasy world of HP, spells are not connected with evil. They are part of the natural order, like gravity and electricity. In his world, there is nothing inherently evil with sorcery, but in reality, there is.

Instead of wasting our time fearfully worrying about possible contaminating influences, let us teach our children to distinguish good from evil, and return to the primary mission of bringing the whole world, even those who have read Harry Potter, to know Jesus. In Him we have a hero whose example we can truly follow.

Today was a complicated and very full day. Our first visitor arrived at 7:30am. This is early, especially for a Sunday, and not normally a good sign. It was Faz Tudo from our church, who was upset because he had been awake all night because his auntie was possessed. He wanted help to take her to her relative’s place, so the relative could take care of her.

Today was a complicated and very full day. Our first visitor arrived at 7:30am. This is early, especially for a Sunday, and not normally a good sign. It was Faz Tudo from our church, who was upset because he had been awake all night because his auntie was possessed. He wanted help to take her to her relative’s place, so the relative could take care of her.

I was assigned to preach today, so Nicola went to get her. After arriving at their house, Nicola decided that she was sick with fever (probably malaria), so went to hospital instead.

I went to church, where I preached on Hebrews 10. I came home after church to find the feverous auntie lying on reed mat in shade. Her brother had declared that he could not possibly look after her because he was going to be travelling the next day. Nicola and the kids were nowhere to be seen. Faz Tudo’s other child was sick with malaria so Nicola took her and her mother to hospital.

Since this auntie has come to stay with Faz Tudo, things have not gone well with his family. His wife has been continually sick with something strange, and his kids have had malaria. It did cross my mind that getting the auntie to stay with her brother was simply a way to get her our of this house.

I started to make lunch. Another lady arrived wanting to talk to Nicola. She looked as if she had been crying lots. I explained that Nicola was out and that maybe she should go and talk to the pastor’s wife. I think she just wanted someone to talk to, because she started to cry anew and the story spilled out. This morning, she had annoyed her husband by suggesting that he was having an affair, so he had tied her up and beaten her. She had been beaten before “but only like husbands normally beat their wives.” This time was much worse. The sad thing is that this is normal behaviour. The saddest thing is that both the husband and the wife are regular members of our church!

We suggested the lady go and stay with her mother for a few days, but the mother would not allow that. The mother said that the lady had to return to her husband, but agreed to look after the baby “so that if you are killed, the baby will not die with you!”

I eventually took the lady back home. If the husband is going to get upset, I’m a good calming influence: big, white, intimidating. Of course, that has no weight once I’ve left. I said that the pastor and I would visit him the next day to talk. He didn’t seem too thrilled with that idea. He was so unthrilled that he managed to be absent the two times since that we’ve been back to visit him, even though we arranged the visits with him beforehand.

When I came back, it was time for our mission’s weekly prayer meeting. Then, the whole team stayed for dinner. Then we collapsed into bed!

Pastor Marcelino and I went to visit the church at Herara yesterday. Drew and two of his friends came with us. Drew’s company was the only encouraging part of the trip.

Pastor Marcelino and I went to visit the church at Herara yesterday. Drew and two of his friends came with us. Drew’s company was the only encouraging part of the trip.

This church at Herara has complained regularly about not being visited enough. The pastor has sent people at three different times to visit the church, but apparently only the first of those people arrived. The other person (sent twice) just took the transport money, stayed at home, and then lied about having visited the church!

We passed a church just on the outskirts of town, and we knew that another church worker had been sent to run the service there. The normal church leader had been told to step down, since he had been chasing (and more than chasing) several of the local girls. He’s not married, so that pastor told him to just chose one and get married, rather than play around like this. He hasn’t yet chosen one, or stopped running after the others.

As we drove further out, we saw another of our church buildings, completely empty. We knew why: the church leader had been expelled from the church for having taken a 12 year old as wife. I didn’t even believe this one at first, but it’s true. We visited this church in the past, and I remember seeing this one young teenaged girl in church and wondering how she came to be there when there were no other teenagers in church. Unfortunately, I now know why she was there. [How did her parents ever agree to such a thing? The girl has since returned to her family]

We passed two other churches (evangelical, but not from our denomination) before we reached Herara — they were both completely empty. The Catholic church, in contrast, was full. We’re told that people like the catholic church because they are always generous to the poor (giving blankets in particular), plus they don’t condemn any traditional practice. I have no idea if this is true or not.

When we arrived at the church in Herara, the thing that struck us first was that the church building had collapsed. The roof was gone; the walls had fallen in. Next to the fallen church was a small grass roofed shelter — no walls, just sticks holding up grass. Underneath, lines of bricks were the pews. No one was there.

Hanging from the shelter was a lump of metal. We whacked that a few times, and eventually two guys appeared. After half an hour of organisation, the service eventually began. The two guys, the pastor and I sat at the front; there were six ladies plus kids on the ladies side, and Drew and his two friends sat on the men’s side. And that was it!

I must admit I was depressed when I came home. The church still has such a long way to go. It seems that on all sides there are weak churches and immoral leadership.

In our prayer meeting yesterday, we prayed for revival in the churches and in ourselves. Boy, how we need that!

I took David and Doug back to Blantyre yesterday. No one lynched us after the “standing on the Bible” episode. To the contrary, everyone including the Pastor wanted them to come back every year to teach.

I took David and Doug back to Blantyre yesterday. No one lynched us after the “standing on the Bible” episode. To the contrary, everyone including the Pastor wanted them to come back every year to teach.

Their flight left at 6am, which meant we had to get up at 4am! I think I need to have a serious word to their travel agent!

It was a frustrating morning after that. I couldn’t find the right type of black plastic. The sack of milk powder that I went to buy had jumped from $140 to $200, and I had only $190 in my wallet: no, we don’t take credit cards, and no, there are no banks nearby. Then I was heading out of town when I remembered that I had promised to buy meat from one of the market vendors, so I had to come back to the market — and then the guy didn’t even have the meat I had promised to buy! [I know all these are very small things, but they irked me nonetheless :-)]

But God had all this in His plan. When I arrived at the Mozambican border, there were three very nice 4-wheel-drive cars there, bearing Australian flags. In the immigration post, two couples and a single man would trying to arrange tourist visas, but were not doing very well. I know the chief of immigration very well at this border, so everything was easy to sort out after that.

These people were doing a long trip through Africa and Europe. They had started in South Africa three months previously, and were heading to Egypt and ultimately to London. They were freelance writers for the Australian 4x4 magazine, including the magazines editor-at-large, Ron Moon and his wife Vivian. My Dad would have been green with envy!

They didn’t have anywhere to stay for the evening so I invited to come and stay with us in our guesthouse.

If my Dad wasn’t green with envy about meeting these people, he would have been when he saw the cars they were driving. They were decked out to the nines! There was the compulsory GPS, but linked to a computer (Mac!) that tracked progress on the only available maps on this region, Russian ones! One car had a thermal imaging system on a heads up display — which is literally the only way you can see Mozambicans on the road at night. And most importantly, there was a custom-built, gourmet espresso machine, which made the best coffee I’ve had since leaving Australia.

We’ve just finished having an encouraging visit from Dave Mansfield and Doug MacKinnon. They came to visit us, and we used it as a chance to have a church conference with “international speakers.” I’ll take them back to Blantyre tomorrow so they can fly home.

We’ve just finished having an encouraging visit from Dave Mansfield and Doug MacKinnon. They came to visit us, and we used it as a chance to have a church conference with “international speakers.” I’ll take them back to Blantyre tomorrow so they can fly home.

On Monday last week, I drove to Blantyre to pick up our guests from the airport — they arrived at 10pm. On Tuesday, we did some hurried shopping and then drove back to Mandimba. There, we picked up 11 ladies, 3 babies, two sacks of food and assorted bags. Dave and Doug were sure that the ladies would never be able to fit into our car, but they had not seen The Tardus in action! Not only did they all manage to squeeze in, but 30km further down the road, we managed to fit in another two ladies and a baby as well!

So we had us 3 men in the front seat, and 13 ladies, 4 babies, two sacks, and various bags and suitcases in the back. And all 13 ladies sang at the top of their lungs for the three hour journey.

The subject of the conference was Christian Family. We invited about 10 other churches, so we had a fair number of people present on both days.

With hindsight, it would have been better to make the conference “Christian Men” since that is what Dave and Doug are gifted in, and, to tell the truth, it is normally the men who mess up marriages in this part of the world. So teaching men is crucial. As Dave and Doug emphasised, if the men change, then the family changes; and if the family changes, the nation changes.

Nicola and I did the translating, which gave me a small insight into the difficulties that bible translators must face — but with only seconds to consider your possibilities. When one of the speakers dropped his Bible to the floor and stood on it, proclaiming, “We must stand on the word of God,” finding a reasonable equivalent is just about impossible. Portuguese does not have “to stand on something” as an expression, so a literal translation would make a much sense as saying, “To serve God well you must stand on the roof of your car.”  

A dynamic equivalent can express the idea of having the Bible as the foundation of your life, but that makes the speaker’s action irrelevant and almost irreverent, since putting a bible onto the ground, and worse putting your dirty foot on it, are not acceptable here.

When does sin exclude someone from ministry? When must a church prohibit a person from taking part in leadership, teaching or evangelism roles? The standard of sinless perfection is impossible, and no standard at all is ludicrous. With the first, even St Paul cannot teach and with the second, even an embezzler can be treasurer. Somewhere between everyone is a sinner and God forgives all sins, there must be some line beyond which a church cannot go. But where is that line, and how will we decide?

When does sin exclude someone from ministry? When must a church prohibit a person from taking part in leadership, teaching or evangelism roles? The standard of sinless perfection is impossible, and no standard at all is ludicrous. With the first, even St Paul cannot teach and with the second, even an embezzler can be treasurer. Somewhere between everyone is a sinner and God forgives all sins, there must be some line beyond which a church cannot go. But where is that line, and how will we decide?

This is not just pie in the sky theologising.

There is a well-known couple here in town. They have just opened a new business, and publicly dedicated that business to God. An hour after the business was dedicated to God, they were shouting at each other, pointing fingers, and wanting a divorce. In church, they give testimonies and ask for God blessing over their family. But we know that their marriage is falling apart, that they have both been unfaithful to each other, and that these problems have been going on for 6 years. Can the church allow this couple to be leaders?

Many church leaders are not officially married to the woman they live with. They are understood to be marriage, but it has never been officially recognised by the State or the Church. Can these leaders keep their positions?

Another lady has lived with three different men and is now living with fourth husband. This last marriage has been stable for a while now - almost a whole year. Can this lady be involved in ministry? If her most recent marriage has been stable for 10 years, could she be involved? If she had not remarried, could she be involved?

What do you want from me Lord?

What do you want from me Lord?

- What I always want: love and trust that results in obedience.

I feel unsettled within. It’s not unpleasant, just uncomfortable. More like hopes and possibilities being stirred up. I’m seeing that there is a much bigger world out there. [I’m almost afraid to write this] Do you want us to be part of that? Do you want me to do more study and end up teaching at a higher level place?

- What are you worrying about? Don’t you trust me? Hasn’t obeying me brought challenges and satisfaction? Aren’t you more alive now than if you had stayed safely at home in Australia?

Yes, I do trust you, though it does have a tendency to waiver. Yes, there have been challenges and satisfactions, but to be blunt, there have also been griefs, frustrations and one or two deep disappointments. Yes, I am definitely more alive than if I had stayed at home programming for a living. I know I would have always regretted not having lived dangerously. There are days though where the shallow, immature life does hold some appeal.

Our Lord He is a hiding place,
            His hold is strong and sure,
Though the storms may rage around me,
            In His love I stand secure,
So let me live like I believe it,
            though my faith is prone to fail,
Though I cower under trials,
            By His grace, I will prevail.

“Living dangerously in the hands of God”, Steve Camp

I’m more like the second half of this verse.

I’m at a Theological Educators consultation in Jo’berg, and God is speaking to me. It’s not always a comfortable process.

I’m at a Theological Educators consultation in Jo’berg, and God is speaking to me. It’s not always a comfortable process.

I don’t know where you are, Lord. Why are you so far away? Where is your power to heal, to transform, to save? I think about what is happening in Cuamba, and I can’t see any of those things — not clearly.

I know I should be a channel through which you can work. I’m sorry that I’m such a rusty, narrow pipe for your presence. I’m also sorry for being so easily distracted from your service. I’m sorry for often taking the easiest path, what takes the least time, rather than considering what is best.

I read Psalm 37 this morning. Verse 3 says “Trust in the Lord and do good…” and verse 34 says “Wait for the Lord and keep his ways.”

This psalm is concerned with the wicked being brought low and the righteous (the psalmist?) being lifted up. But I want the wicked to be changed, the indifference to rejoice in God, those who don’t know Him to be saved. How can those things happen?

C.S. Lewis said something like this: The faithful man is one who, when all trace of God has vanished from the universe, cries out to God and still does what is right.

May I be such a man.

[Nicola rang me that evening and told me that Mma Felicidade, our neighbour, had driven out demons from a local girl that after, using only Jesus’ name. God is still present with power. Just not always in the way that we expect.]

One problem with keeping a journal is that it invariably gets out of date. Suddenly, you find that you haven’t written anything for two months. None of those important or interesting things that happened have been recorded. Will I go back and try to reconstruct what happened, or simply overlook them and start again from today?

One problem with keeping a journal is that it invariably gets out of date. Suddenly, you find that you haven’t written anything for two months. None of those important or interesting things that happened have been recorded. Will I go back and try to reconstruct what happened, or simply overlook them and start again from today?

This time, I think I’m mainly going to overlook what has happened (the lazy option). But I have to write something about our holidays.

Mum and Dad came to visit us in January. They spend a few brief days with us in Cuamba, and then we all travelled to Capetown for two weeks. Capetown was lovely. It feels like the coastal regions of Australia. I particularly enjoyed:

• Shopping for nice food in a good supermarket.
• Being able to buy lots of vegetables and fruits
• Going to a restaurant
• Driving on good roads. In contrast, the roads in Cuamba have been particularly bad this year. When I was bringing Mum and Dad to Cuamba, it took us 5.5 hours to travel 145km from Mandimba to Cuamba.

What does that list show? I’m a shallow hedonist who likes food and comfort! :-)

I was writing a preaching course this morning, when shouts and confusion erupted in front of our house. A bike came pelting down our road, followed closely by a car, with shouts of “Thief! Thief!” The cyclist leapt from the bike, jumped our fence, jumped into our neighbour’s yard, and disappeared. The car screeched to a halt, everyone piled out and ran after the cyclist.

I was writing a preaching course this morning, when shouts and confusion erupted in front of our house. A bike came pelting down our road, followed closely by a car, with shouts of “Thief! Thief!” The cyclist leapt from the bike, jumped our fence, jumped into our neighbour’s yard, and disappeared. The car screeched to a halt, everyone piled out and ran after the cyclist.

The whole neighbourhood took up the cry of “Thief!” Two minutes later, I’d just arrived on the street when they brought him back. As they prodded him along, they started to beat him. I always hate that part. One person after another slapped or cuffed him. By the time he arrived in front of our house, more people had joined in the beating. Suddenly, something changed and the crowd became a mob. The slapping became punching. The thief fell to the ground, and four men started kicking him. Others picked up bamboo poles and hit him with those. When two men picked up bricks and began to pound him, I decided that was enough.

More through luck than bravery, I managed to get the thief away from the mob. He collapsed, and I stood over him, yelling, “That’s enough!” An angry, big, white guy is enough to stall most people here. The crowd stopped but still hovered close, bamboo poles at the ready. “We want to beat him,” one of them said — which is, of course, the nub of the problem.

Our neighbours rescued me from the standoff. They managed to disperse the crowd, then took the thief and decided how justice should be done.

I know it’s the normal practice to beat thieves here, but it goes wrong so easily. There’s a wicked side that surfaces in a mob — people suspend their consciences and happily do things they would never otherwise do. It’s sickening to see someone gleefully smash someone else with a brick. More than one thief has been lynched when the mob has simply lost control.

I have no sympathy for the thief. He deserved punishment, and if the crowd had limited themselves to slapping, I wouldn’t have intervened. But he did not deserve to die.

Thievery is a real problem here, but lynching the thieves is not the answer.

Last night was the last lesson of John at the Bible college. It was not a particularly smooth course.

Last night was the last lesson of John at the Bible college. It was not a particularly smooth course.

The principle difficulty was that some students were just not interested in being there. They would pass their time sleeping, looking at the clock, or staring out the window (which, given that it’s a night course, is not a particularly interesting view :-)). It didn’t seem like they ever did the preparation for the lessons. In the second week of the course, one of them was still not sure what book of the bible we were studying: he said that he had been reading 1 Corinthians. The admission was funny at the time, but worrying later on — has he really been in my class for a week and not known what book were studying?

I can’t understand why they were there. It’s a completely voluntary course — no one has to do it. It doesn’t improve your career prospects. No church demands it as a prerequisite for eldership. Why were they wasting their time every evening coming to a class they didn’t want to do?

The best evenings of the course were when all these reluctant students were absent. Without them, we only had a class of 4 or 5, but we had our best discussions and teachings.

Mama Louisa died a few days after I took her to Malema. Her daughter and some uncles visited us two or three times about a week after Mama Louisa died. They were very keen for the daughter to be given the job that Mama Louisa had had. Very keen! They said it was common practice here for another family member to inherit the job. They added that I would be making the daughter and her family hungry if I didn’t give her the job. When I reminded them that it was the family’s job to take care of her, and that she had a husband as well, they brushed it off and changed the subject.

Mama Louisa died a few days after I took her to Malema. Her daughter and some uncles visited us two or three times about a week after Mama Louisa died. They were very keen for the daughter to be given the job that Mama Louisa had had. Very keen! They said it was common practice here for another family member to inherit the job. They added that I would be making the daughter and her family hungry if I didn’t give her the job. When I reminded them that it was the family’s job to take care of her, and that she had a husband as well, they brushed it off and changed the subject.

To tell the truth, we didn’t really want to give the job to the daughter. We had another lady in mind: Mama Teresa, a widow with five children, including a disabled one. Teresa had worked for us occasionally and we had really liked her. We’ve already asked her to come and work for us fulltime.

Soon after the visit from the daughter and uncles, we began to hear rumours that Mama Louisa had died because she had been cursed, and more specifically that Mama Teresa had cursed her because she wanted to take her job! It seems that some members of Mama Louisa’s family were more than a little upset at the daughter not getting the job, and were spreading these stories as a payback.

Despite our best efforts, the stories are having an effect. Mama Teresa told us a couple of days ago that she can’t work for us anymore. People are talking about her in her neighbourhood and at church, and she doesn’t want that. She’s even thinking about moving to another city, just to get away.

The injustice of this situation really annoys me! Mama Teresa really is in need, and having a job with us would be a big help in her life! But because of the spitefulness of some people, she won’t accept that job.

Nothing for six week and now almost five days in a row! What a week it has been. Last night, Isabella’s middle toe was almost cut in half. She was playing with the coffee table, and it fell onto her toe, crushing the nail and cutting deep into the toe.

Nothing for six week and now almost five days in a row! What a week it has been. Last night, Isabella’s middle toe was almost cut in half. She was playing with the coffee table, and it fell onto her toe, crushing the nail and cutting deep into the toe.

She screamed — a lot! We took her to hospital, jumped the queue (which bothered me only very slightly), and had her seen to. They cleaned it (none too gently), and then simply wrapped it up. They didn’t put in stiches or anything.

The hospital staff kept telling her to be quiet, and then complained that she was angry because she wouldn’t stop crying. They then switched to Makhua, and spoke about these people from England. We couldn’t follow it, but it didn’t sound complimentary.

We gave Isabella a Valium to help her sleep. This morning, she’s a little grumpy, but hobbling around quite happily.

After we came home from the hospital and put Isa to bed, we were exhausted. Post-adrenaline reaction, I suppose.

Mama Louisa is deathly ill. Nicola went and visited her during the week, and thought she would die soon. She has pneumonia, fevers, and probably malaria as well. We both went to visit her yesterday. She was so weak she could barely lift a cup to her mouth. We tried to convince her to let us take her to the hospital, but she absolutely refused. She wanted to go home to Malema. I think she wants to go there so she can die at home.

Mama Louisa is deathly ill. Nicola went and visited her during the week, and thought she would die soon. She has pneumonia, fevers, and probably malaria as well. We both went to visit her yesterday. She was so weak she could barely lift a cup to her mouth. We tried to convince her to let us take her to the hospital, but she absolutely refused. She wanted to go home to Malema. I think she wants to go there so she can die at home.

The frustrating thing is that she has had the necessary antibiotics and antimalarials in her house the whole time — but she refuses to take them. She took the antibiotics for one day, and refused after that, saying they made her unwell, and that they didn’t work. She has much more faith in curandeiro, but as normal, he hasn’t helped in the slightest.

Late yesterday afternoon, her daughter came to ask if we would take her home to Malema. We agreed, so at 6:30am this morning, I took her, her daughter and an auntie to her home. It was a distressing trip. Mama Louisa cried in pain most of the way, and whimpered or cried out whenever I hit a bump. There are a lot of bumps on 100km of Mozambican dirt roads. At times, I just wanted to cry.

Should we have forced her to go to hospital, or to take the medicines?

Why didn’t God answer our prayers for this woman? We prayed everyday for six months that she would be set free from her fears, and come to know Him as Lord. We prayed passionately for her yesterday, and before that too. Maybe she will recover and these things that we’ve asked will happen. Maybe they’ve already happened and I just haven’t seen it.

I know that I have to trust Him. I know that my own history shows that I can trust Him. But I cannot pretend that I understand.

SOMEONE STOLE OUR IPOD! Again! I’m so mad!

SOMEONE STOLE OUR IPOD! Again! I’m so mad!

This is the second iPod in three months. The first belonged to the boys and they let any of the kids use it. So I’m not surprised that someone gave in to the temptation of just pocketing it and taking it home.

But this one was mine, and was only allowed in my office or on its speaker stand on top of the fridge in the kitchen. No one was allowed to use it.

The annoying thing is that it was just a stupid thing to do. They have no way to recharge it, so they will listen to it for a few hours, and then throw it away!

The really annoying thing is that we used it everyday! It was our only stereo system. The CD players we’ve had here have all been ruined by the fine dust that permeates Cuamba. So we have no way to listen to music.

I’m ranting, I know. It’s only a thing. And all treasures on earth are eaten by moth or rust, or thieves break in and steal (literally, in this case). I know I need to calm down, and see things from a bigger perspective. Deep breath!

It could be just a coincidence, but just before Dinho left last night, he asked if he could take the iPod. We said no. He looked disappointed and then left. He’s been behaving oddly, but I doubt that he would have stolen the iPod. Well, I really hope he hasn’t.

Bible college tonight was much, much better. Everyone had done their homework, all seemed alert, and the main discussion of the evening had everyone’s interest. We were looking at John 2, and the first question was “Why did Jesus make wine, since drinking wine is a sin?” So we wrestled with that one for almost an hour.

Bible college tonight was much, much better. Everyone had done their homework, all seemed alert, and the main discussion of the evening had everyone’s interest. We were looking at John 2, and the first question was “Why did Jesus make wine, since drinking wine is a sin?” So we wrestled with that one for almost an hour.

When I came home, Nicola looked upset. Dinho had decided to leave Cuamba without giving any explanation as to why. I took him aside, and tried to get him to explain why he was leaving. He refused to explain. The only thing he said was that if he stayed, we wouldn’t see him alive any more, and that if he didn’t go, other people beside himself would be hurt. He said that he had been planning this for a while. He needed money to travel, but if we wouldn’t give it to him, he would still go, by bike if necessary.

His mum is still sick with a terminal disease. It seems so unlike him to leave her alone while she’s sick. If she dies while he’s not here, he will have that on his conscience for a long time.

There are several things here that puzzle me if not make me suspicious. Dinho said his mattress was stolen at the beginning of the week and we gave him money to buy another one. If he knew he was leaving, why buy another mattress? It’s also possible that the mattress wasn’t stolen, and that he just kept the money.

Most puzzling of all is why won’t he tell us the reason? He has talked with us/me about all sorts of personal or confessional type things. Why not this?

Nicola thinks that someone is pressuring him to steal from us, and threatening to hurt him and his family if he doesn’t. We know that this is a possibility — that does happen here. But we’ve already talked about this with him, and I think if there were this pressure, he would be able to tell us.

Nothing is ever simple here. By getting involved in his life, we have changed him and his family. He has had a place to stay when his stepfather would have beaten him, and food to eat when he would have been hungry. He has seen a stable, loving family up close, and been part of it too. But his place in society has changed. Rather than just being another kid in the bairro, he’s now the one who stays with the brancos. Thieves have targeted him because they know he had stuff: he has new clothes, a bike, a light that works in his house. People want things from him, or want him to get things from us — sometimes with our permission. His mother expects him to support her, normally by asking us for more things. He has pressures and difficulties that he would never had had if we hadn’t taken him into our family.

Did we do the right thing? I still think so, but it’s not straightforward.

The hot season has arrived! It was 40 degrees yesterday and the day before, and at the moment (2pm), it’s 39 outside in the shade. That’s uncomfortably hot! It’s worse at night — the temperature in the house stays about 30, and that makes it tricky to sleep comfortably.

The hot season has arrived! It was 40 degrees yesterday and the day before, and at the moment (2pm), it’s 39 outside in the shade. That’s uncomfortably hot! It’s worse at night — the temperature in the house stays about 30, and that makes it tricky to sleep comfortably.

My first entry for almost six weeks. A lot has happened in that time — nothing surprising there! I had my birthday, and we had our 19^th anniversary. We’ve been to Marrupa for a house warming for the Talbotts, as well as attending a not-completely-discouraging parenting course.

My birthday wasn’t a great day. I like having time to myself on my birthday to do the things that I like, but that was almost impossible with lots of people coming to ask for things. Nicola made a very nice dinner for me, including cheesecake! How she managed to arrange the ingredients for that, I don’t know.

A few days after my birthday, Jenny looked after the kids for a night, and we went to a funny little restaurant with hireable rooms on the edge of Cuamba and stayed there. We went for a walk into the bush in the late afternoon and saw the most spectacular sunset. We almost got lost on the way back, which would have been highly amusing — at least, it would have been amusing after an appropriate period of time had passed.

I started teaching my course on John at the bible college on Tuesday. It was a less than auspicious start — more than half the class wasn’t there. Yesterday was a public holiday, and tonight might well have been. Three people were actually asleep in the class and three more had that glazed expression, showing that they had mastered the art of sleeping with their eyes open. With 20 minutes still to go, after yet another response-less question, I gave up and sent them all home, with instructions to get a good night’s sleep and coming back tomorrow, having prepared John 2. We will see if it is any better tomorrow. It can’t be worse :-)

I’m in Lichinga at the moment, supposedly attending a five-day church conference. But I’ve got some sort of low-grade flu, so I’m actually by myself in the SIM guesthouse, trying to recover so I can drive home tomorrow.

I’m in Lichinga at the moment, supposedly attending a five-day church conference. But I’ve got some sort of low-grade flu, so I’m actually by myself in the SIM guesthouse, trying to recover so I can drive home tomorrow.

The church conference has been five days of preaching/teaching: four sessions of 1.5-2 hours each day. When the preachers have been well-prepared, the sessions have been good, but in the other cases, the sessions have just been long :-) The provincial superintendent, Pastor Bambo, was excellent in all his sessions: clear, biblical, relevant. It was a pleasure to learn from him.

Five days away from home is too long. I miss Nicola and the kids too much. I thought that having evenings to myself to work on the computer would be good, but I’ve been somewhat listless in the evenings, not really knowing what to do with myself. It’s time to go back. Also, I don’t think I can eat any more beans!

It’s been a very full month. SLC took up the end of July, and the Eschatology course consumed the time before and since then.

It’s been a very full month. SLC took up the end of July, and the Eschatology course consumed the time before and since then.

I only have one week left with the Eschatology course. This has been the most difficult course so far. Not so much in terms of subject matter — which is actually more interesting than I imagined — but in terms of students. This is the first group that has trouble adjusting to my question/answer style of teaching. There are lots of blank looks most nights when I ask questions about the passages we’re studying.

Consequently, I’ve been doing more straight teaching. They diligently copy down everything I write on the board, but I still don’t think they’re getting it. It does show a limitation of my style of teaching: it depends on the co-operation of the students. If they are unwilling or unable to participate, it simply doesn’t work.

I’m in Mechanelus at the moment. We came to do three days of teaching elders and deacons. It was demanded (!) that we leave early yesterday morning — 6am at the latest — so we could start teaching at 8am and get in a full day. We left at 7am and arrived here at 8:45am. As I could have guessed, no one was ready for us — the church was completely empty. Almost as normal, we didn’t actually start until 3pm. Why did I even bother getting up early?

I’m in Mechanelus at the moment. We came to do three days of teaching elders and deacons. It was demanded (!) that we leave early yesterday morning — 6am at the latest — so we could start teaching at 8am and get in a full day. We left at 7am and arrived here at 8:45am. As I could have guessed, no one was ready for us — the church was completely empty. Almost as normal, we didn’t actually start until 3pm. Why did I even bother getting up early?

Last night, we all squeezed into the elder’s compound. It’s quite small, even for a place in town. They tried to put Pastor David (a Brazilian missionary) and I in the same bed for the night! Well, that’s one cultural line that I’m just not willing to cross. I know that here it’s very common for men to share a bed, and it means absolutely nothing. But for me the cultural taboo is just too strong. I slept on the floor in the living room.

I can see that they are cooking goat testicles on the open fire. One more cultural line I’m not going to cross. Hopefully, that’s not a delicacy that guests have to eat. We had goats heart for dinner last night and we’re having goat liver tomorrow morning — that’s more than enough for me!

I have heaps of work to do at the moment, so I don’t really have time to write in the journal at the moment. But if I did have time, these are some of the events I should remember to write down:

I have heaps of work to do at the moment, so I don’t really have time to write in the journal at the moment. But if I did have time, these are some of the events I should remember to write down:

• The abortive attempts to show the Jesus film at Mpessini [see Saturday, 8 July 2006]
• Getting Snr Nicholão’s grain and the guy on the bike [see Friday, 23 June 2006]
• Showing the Jesus film in Mississe and the 5-foot bamboo slat bed
• Pastor Tablou coming to ask me to work with the churches near the Lake

Maybe I’ll have time to fill in these stories later on.

Vinny’s mum went to jail yesterday. Vinny is a friend of Drew who is quiet but almost always happy. He turned up after church, seriously upset. He was trying to explain what had happened but kept choking up. We gave him a big hug and he burst into tears, and eventually the story came out.

Vinny’s mum went to jail yesterday. Vinny is a friend of Drew who is quiet but almost always happy. He turned up after church, seriously upset. He was trying to explain what had happened but kept choking up. We gave him a big hug and he burst into tears, and eventually the story came out.

His mum had gone to visit his dad, who has been living with a girlfriend for the last few months. His mum lost her temper and broke some things, then later returned and broke some more things, as well as trying to set fire to the house. There was a bit of a scuffle and Vinny (who was with her this time) was hit several times. The police arrived and took her to jail.

So, Vinny stayed with us last night, and Nicola visited his mum in prison in the afternoon, taking dinner for her.

Nicola spent most of today (and then most of our remaining salary) at the police station arranging for her to be released. It was a long but not difficult process.

I don’t understand the husband in this. After 20 years of marriage, he leaves his wife to live with his girlfriend. But when he was seriously ill, three months ago, he came back to his wife, and she took care of him for a month. Then he returned to his girlfriend! He reported his wife to the police so that she was arrested, and then demanded that she pay damages and a fine.

We finally went to show the Jesus film at Mpesseni tonight. This was the third time we had planned to go there. We were supposed to go there two weeks ago, but Nicola and Drew were sick and I decided I couldn’t leave them. Then last week, one of our tyres shredded itself a couple of days before we were supposed to go, ruling out any long trips until we could arrange a spare.

We finally went to show the Jesus film at Mpesseni tonight. This was the third time we had planned to go there. We were supposed to go there two weeks ago, but Nicola and Drew were sick and I decided I couldn’t leave them. Then last week, one of our tyres shredded itself a couple of days before we were supposed to go, ruling out any long trips until we could arrange a spare.

So this afternoon, we finally were able to go and show the film. We arrived and spoke with the church, then went and sat for a while with the local chief, explaining to him what we were doing with the film. Just after dark, we started the film. Fifteen minutes later, the generator died! It still had lots of fuel (of the right sort!), the spark plug was clean and connected, and after that I was stuck for options :-)

We sadly packed up and returned home early. I don’t understand God’s ways sometimes often.

It’s impossible for us to guess what people think of us, what explanations they invent to explain our strange behaviour.

It’s impossible for us to guess what people think of us, what explanations they invent to explain our strange behaviour.

We often wonder what they think of our family, especial of my relationship with Nicola. We have such different roles from “normal” Mozambican husband-wife models. We hope that they see a loving relationship between us, with the husband being involved with house and children.

But what they see is unguessable. For example, Dinho told us today that when we first arrived, people were sure they understood our (Nicola’s and mine) relationship. They knew that Nicola had put drugs (from the curandeiro) in my food so that I was a patato (“fool”) for her, doing work in the house so she could sit around doing nothing.

They saw our loving, serving relationship, but they interpreted it in a way that made sense to them: that Nicola had bewitched me so she could be lazy. That explanation made more sense to them than us helping each other.

This is a good reminder to us to stop trying to guess what people think of us and of what we do. We would never have imagined a bewitched explanation for our relationship, but that was how it was perceived.

It’s harvest time, and that’s normally the occasion for pedidos (requests for money). The people who work for us (and others) want to bring in their harvest from their fields so that it isn’t stolen. To do that, they normally need 2-3 million meticais. But that’s a problem for us because we just don’t have that money to give, not even as loans.

It’s harvest time, and that’s normally the occasion for pedidos (requests for money). The people who work for us (and others) want to bring in their harvest from their fields so that it isn’t stolen. To do that, they normally need 2-3 million meticais. But that’s a problem for us because we just don’t have that money to give, not even as loans.

So, instead of giving money to pay for someone else to transport the grain, today I went with Senhor Nicolão to his machamba to do the transporting myself. We filled the car to the absolute brim two times and then took the maize back to his house. With transit time, loading and unloading, it took 6 hours. So, in effect, I traded 6 hours of time for 2 million meticais. My natural inclination is always to trade to money for time — we can always get more money, but we can never get more time. But I also had six hours of relationship building, and another experience of being in someone else’s life.

One interesting incident was when we returning to the machamba for the second time. At one point, there was a bike coming towards us on a track that was simply too narrow to left him pass the car. I stopped the car to let him pass us. When the car stopped, the man on the bike looked at me, then with a face full of fear, he tossed his bike to the side, and sprinted straight into the scrub! The guys with me jumped out and started yelling after him, telling him to stop. But he didn’t come back, so we moved his bike out of the way, and drove on. When we were 100 metres down the road, I saw him in the rearview mirror, creeping out the scrub and picking up this bike again.

The man was about 25-30, but the tales of white men stealing people and eating them are still strong.

It has been a very full week. We came back from Lichinga on Monday. Mozambique Hub had organised a weekend Marriage Enhancement course for missionaries. The course had good content, but not so good environment: Nicola and I and the three kids all slept in a small room with two double bunks and a mattress on the floor — not the best setting for marriage enrichment :-)  

It has been a very full week. We came back from Lichinga on Monday. Mozambique Hub had organised a weekend Marriage Enhancement course for missionaries. The course had good content, but not so good environment: Nicola and I and the three kids all slept in a small room with two double bunks and a mattress on the floor — not the best setting for marriage enrichment :-)  

Then during the rest of the week, we had:

• a disconnected telephone (last month, they charged us fives times our normal monthly bill. After some pointed discussions, they agreed they’d probably overcharged us, and let me pay just our normal amount, assuring me they wouldn’t disconnect our phone — but they still disconnected our phone)
• a flat tyre but no jack (this was the second jack that has disappeared from our car. They are either being stolen, or I am lending them to people and then suffering from localised but total amnesia)
• non-working blinker lights on our car (not a big problem except that police in Mozambique and especially in Malawi take an inordinate interest in whether your blinkers work, and love to fine you for having a defective car if they don’t)
• a guest house with guests but no working lights
• more guests sleeping in our house
• a stolen iPod (major bummer  :-))
• a tent sleepover for 5 boys
• two funerals
• an academic evaluation of our bible college.

More than enough to keep us busy.

Nicola went to the hospital yesterday. Pastor Marcelino’s youngest child, Maria-Madelina, has been sick on and off for a couple of weeks, but she deteriorated rapidly yesterday. She now has pneumonia, and was admitted to hospital. Nicola went to see her and to give some food to Flora (Pastor Marcelino’s wife).

Nicola went to the hospital yesterday. Pastor Marcelino’s youngest child, Maria-Madelina, has been sick on and off for a couple of weeks, but she deteriorated rapidly yesterday. She now has pneumonia, and was admitted to hospital. Nicola went to see her and to give some food to Flora (Pastor Marcelino’s wife).

Visiting the hospital is never an easy experience. People often only come to the hospital when they are deathly ill, and the curandeiro has tried and failed to cure them. So the first-aid part of the hospital sees a lot of very unwell people.

The number of mal-nourished children there was heart-breaking. There were six-month old twins, who looked like newborns they were so small and frail. Another child was literally skin over bone, with a bloated belly, and listlessness. There was a family with terrible burns from a kerosene lamp that exploded.

There were only five beds in the ward, but eight patients, so they share beds. There were puddles of liquid on the floor, which at best were dirty water.

The worst part is that few of the hospital staff seem to care about the patients. When Nicola first arrived, Flora and Maria-Madelina had been waiting for a while. There was a queue of 20 people waiting on the hospital veranda. The person who was supposed to be treating the people was talking on a mobile phone, and continued to talk for 15 minutes after Nicola arrived. Just inside the door, five nurses were standing around chatting, not paying one iota of attention to those outside.

There is a nurse training school being built just outside of town. I know Nicola would love to be able to teach there. She would do well, I know, teaching not just techniques but compassion and kindness.

We held our long delayed marriage course in Mandimba this weekend. It ran well, though not at all how we had planned.

We held our long delayed marriage course in Mandimba this weekend. It ran well, though not at all how we had planned.

We had organised a very nice timetable: start at 10am, morning and afternoon tea breaks, finish at 5pm. When we arrived at the church at 11am (already an hour late), there was not one person there. The building was locked and completely deserted. We eventually started at 3pm, with five people. By the time we finished at 6pm, there were more than 40 people there, of whom 15 came forward at the end for repentance and prayer. The talks and studies were well received, and did seem to have some impact on people.

It was the first time that Nicola and I had gone out to do ministry together, and I must say, I liked the experience. It was nice being together with her, especially when everyone else was off elsewhere, or had reverted to talking in Makua or Chechewa.

We also had the nicest accommodation that I’ve ever had while out on assignment. One of the church members has a nice cement house with guest accommodation — plastered separate room, double bed, mosquito net! He runs a good quality bar/restaurant in town. He even served us huge tiger prawns for dinner on Saturday night (good for Nicola, lousy for me :-)).

The car lurched from side to side as I slowly drove across the one-foot deep trench across the road. Beside the road, the neighbourhood rubbish pile had filled the sidewalk and was overflowing into the gutter and road. Behind the rubbish, the wall of the town prison was cracked and the barbed wire hung in loose strands from the top.

The car lurched from side to side as I slowly drove across the one-foot deep trench across the road. Beside the road, the neighbourhood rubbish pile had filled the sidewalk and was overflowing into the gutter and road. Behind the rubbish, the wall of the town prison was cracked and the barbed wire hung in loose strands from the top.

None of this was unusual. In fact, I wasn’t even conscious of it, thinking instead of my run-in with the local telephone company. It wasn’t until I was almost home that I thought about it: all those things (foot-deep trench in the road, a large pile of rubbish on the road side, and a broken down prison wall) are all very uncommon sights — in Australia. But I’m not in Australia, and I’m no longer used to Australia. It’s here that seems normal now. The burning fields, 10-foot tall grass, brown dust that covers everything, torn clothes, mud houses, all seem commonplace now.

The leader of Renamo, Djakahma (sp?), has been staying in our guesthouse for five days. As a person, he seems smart, friendly, polite — as I suppose any good politician must. But he is constantly surrounded by a swarm of helpers, most of whom would not make good politicians. Our yard has been full of people this week, some guarding, some cooking, most just hanging around. Having twenty pairs of eyes watch you as soon as you step outside the backdoor, doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, but I still prefer to have our yard to ourselves. The boys don’t like it at all.

The leader of Renamo, Djakahma (sp?), has been staying in our guesthouse for five days. As a person, he seems smart, friendly, polite — as I suppose any good politician must. But he is constantly surrounded by a swarm of helpers, most of whom would not make good politicians. Our yard has been full of people this week, some guarding, some cooking, most just hanging around. Having twenty pairs of eyes watch you as soon as you step outside the backdoor, doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, but I still prefer to have our yard to ourselves. The boys don’t like it at all.

The night before last, a less-than-sober, less-than-sensible, Frelimo-supporting by passer decided to heckle our yard-full of Renamo supporters. He was seriously beaten, having to be rescued by a couple of neighbours who saw what happened (we were out at Jo and Steven’s house at the time).

One of our church members is a strong Frelimo supporter, and he was upset with us for hosting Djakahma. We see ourselves are neutral and detached from the political machinations, but clearly others don’t see it the same way. We don’t want to be known as the house where Renamo supporters beat people up. It might be best if we turn down future political celebrities.

While we were at the lake, God convicted me that I have to be more “here,” to concentrate on what is happening here and now, instead of thinking about something elsewhere. The verse “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” is a good reminder for me.

While we were at the lake, God convicted me that I have to be more “here,” to concentrate on what is happening here and now, instead of thinking about something elsewhere. The verse “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” is a good reminder for me.

I find it so easy to get distracted into other things: writing programs, chess, computer games. Those things are OK, but they should not take my focus off serving God and the church in this place. That is where my focus, energy, concentration, and abilities should be directed.

Part of this is that I need to pray and study the bible more. I’m regular with reading the bible, but my prayer life is abysmal. I listened to one of John Piper’s podcast sermons yesterday, and it was talking about having a life devoted to prayer. That is so far from where I am. Please forgive me Lord for not spending any real time talking with you.

It’s also foolish to think that I can do anything here without prayer. I know that it’s a spiritual battle here in Cuamba. The spiritual oppression is obvious almost all the time. God can do more in five seconds than I can do in five years. So, if I’m to have any impact here, I have to make use of that weapon, and not rely on my own abilities.

I went and spoke with Pastor Augusto yesterday. This was the hard talk that I’ve been putting off. The church split while we were away, and we haven’t wanted to take sides. After praying about it for a month, I decided that it would be best to just leave the churches by themselves for a while.

I went and spoke with Pastor Augusto yesterday. This was the hard talk that I’ve been putting off. The church split while we were away, and we haven’t wanted to take sides. After praying about it for a month, I decided that it would be best to just leave the churches by themselves for a while.

That seems like a good idea, and I was sure that it was the best thing to do. But last week, I began to have doubts. Was that really what God wanted, or was it just projection on my part?

The problem is that motives are rarely pure. When you really start to examine why you are doing something, you find that the reasons are not always obvious or even honourable. Case in point: why am I drawing apart from these churches?

Well, partly I hope it’s because that’s the leading of the Spirit (though if you’re not careful, that can be just a spiritualised way of saying “I want to”). I don’t want to be seen to siding with one side or other of the split, especially since I still don’t understand why there was a split.

So far, so good. But digging a little deeper, I find that there are other less godly motives. I don’t have many friendships with the church members now — the people I knew best have left the church. So I don’t feel so comfortable in the churches. The couple of bible studies that I’ve tried to run have failed spectacularly, and that makes me reluctant to try again. And (just to prove how shallow I am) both churches are somewhat difficult to reach, and I have to make an effort to travel to them. It’s easier to work with churches near our house.

I know I have a tendency to do the easiest thing, and the easiest thing is not always what God wants (just ask Moses, Jeremiah or Jesus!). So, was drawing apart from the church my will or God’s? I wasn’t sure.

In the end, I decided it was what God wanted. Jo and Steven helped, since they agreed it was best thing to do. It’s nice to have wise leadership to give advice from time to time.

So today, Pastor Augusto and I met, and I explained to him my decision. He accepted it graciously, as I should have known that he would.

Now that that is decided, I feel free and untangled.  Thank you Lord.

I dropped Nicola and Isabella at Blantyre airport at 5am this morning. Isabella needs to have grommets, but no one was sure when the visiting ENT was going to arrive in Malawi. So, it’s off to Johannesburg for Nicola and Isabella. Isabella was cute, even at 5am! It’s always sad to say goodbye and today was no exception. They’re coming back on Friday, so it’s not too long away.

I dropped Nicola and Isabella at Blantyre airport at 5am this morning. Isabella needs to have grommets, but no one was sure when the visiting ENT was going to arrive in Malawi. So, it’s off to Johannesburg for Nicola and Isabella. Isabella was cute, even at 5am! It’s always sad to say goodbye and today was no exception. They’re coming back on Friday, so it’s not too long away.

After dropping them off, I collected the boys and went to do the required shopping. This, of course, produced loud groans from the boys, but their hard-hearted father was completely unmoved. Then we drove the 7 hours back to Cuamba. The roads are excellent at the moment, but it’s still a long trip, especially if you’ve been awake since 4am!

Jo invited us to dinner at their house, which was nice. It’s very different being without Nicola and Isabella. There is less that demands attention. After dinner, I could sit with everyone else, and not worry whether Isabella was strangling the cat, escaping through a window, or exploring the knife drawer. I love her dearly, but there are advantages to having older children.

We had a lovely day today. We’re having a few days break by Lake Malawi, on our way to take Nicola and Isabella to the airport on Tuesday. Today, we went to Cape McClare and had a wonderful time.

We had a lovely day today. We’re having a few days break by Lake Malawi, on our way to take Nicola and Isabella to the airport on Tuesday. Today, we went to Cape McClare and had a wonderful time.

Cape McClare is on a pretty spur of land that sticks out into a beautiful bay on Lake Malawi. The tip of the spur is a national park, and is home to a colony of otters! We didn’t go into the national park, but it’s still pretty to view from afar.  

The only bad part of the day was the hawkers at Cape McClare — they were voracious! They swarmed around the car when we first arrived, yelling over the top of each other. A couple of enterprising guys were up at the turn off, and were almost willing to throw themselves in front of the car to get our attention.

To escape the hawkers, we hid inside one of the small motel/camping places, called “Fat Monkeys.” They had a nice beach, where the boys and Isabella splashed for ages. We negotiated with some Malawians to have a boat trip out to one of the islands in the bay.  They knew a place where the fish were almost tame, so we swam amongst schools of small, brightly coloured fish. They were so tame you could catch them in your hand (if you were fast). The boys just loved that.

When we came back from the boat trip, we had some pizzas (good but not as good as Nicola’s), and then drove back to our lodge. It was a great day.

Our most persistent and ungrateful beggar was back today. I find it difficult to know what to do with him — well, and remain more or less godly. Most people who come to ask for things are at least somewhat reluctant and sometimes even grateful for what they are given. But this man seems untouched by such reflections. He arrives 3 or 4 times per month, and wants apparently has 10 children in his family (which could be true), is sick (which is probably true), doesn’t drink (which is unlikely to be true), and has no food in his house (which is almost certainly true). But whatever we give him, he always wants more or something else too. He wants oil and salt too, or there isn’t enough rice or beans in the bag. It is a test of my patience whenever he arrives. I don’t always pass.

Our most persistent and ungrateful beggar was back today. I find it difficult to know what to do with him — well, and remain more or less godly. Most people who come to ask for things are at least somewhat reluctant and sometimes even grateful for what they are given. But this man seems untouched by such reflections. He arrives 3 or 4 times per month, and wants apparently has 10 children in his family (which could be true), is sick (which is probably true), doesn’t drink (which is unlikely to be true), and has no food in his house (which is almost certainly true). But whatever we give him, he always wants more or something else too. He wants oil and salt too, or there isn’t enough rice or beans in the bag. It is a test of my patience whenever he arrives. I don’t always pass.

We showed the Jesus film in the AOG church last night. It always seems well received. Lots of people from the neighbourhood came to watch it, even those who would never otherwise set foot inside the church. We’ve talked about taking this film to some of the surrounding villages and showing it there, and I’ll think we’ll push for that to happen again. Like most people, it’s more powerful seeing what Jesus did rather than just hearing about it.

We’re going to show it again on Sunday afternoon, and I’m sure that we’ll get an even bigger crowd.

We bought a new bike for Drew on Saturday, and it was stolen today. Someone came into our yard and took it while everyone was having lunch. It was there at midday when we went in for lunch, and gone by 2pm when Snr Vincent came back. If nothing else, it shows guts on the part of the thief — walking into a yard in broad daylight, with lots of people around and wheeling out someone’s bike.

We bought a new bike for Drew on Saturday, and it was stolen today. Someone came into our yard and took it while everyone was having lunch. It was there at midday when we went in for lunch, and gone by 2pm when Snr Vincent came back. If nothing else, it shows guts on the part of the thief — walking into a yard in broad daylight, with lots of people around and wheeling out someone’s bike.

Then tonight, at about midnight, another thief snuck into the yard to steal some other things. But this time, our guard was there and alert. He chased him out, almost (but not quite) catching him in the process. My guess would be that it was the same person who took the bike, coming back to see what else was an easy mark.

I’m writing about it in a light tone, but I don’t feel particularly light. It feels yucky to have someone come and steal things from the yard. Nicola and Drew are upset. They did the work of finding a good bike that was the right size for Drew. Part of the money for the bike was a gift from someone in Australia specifically for Drew.

Thievery is endemic here. Someone came yesterday saying that all his goods had been stolen from his house: his blanket, his pots, and his esteira (reed mat). Almost nothing by our standards, but it was everything for him. Last week, someone stole Evangelista’s (Snr Vincent’s son) bicycle from school. He had saved for three months to be able to buy that bike, and it was stolen in less than a week.  

There is something deeply discouraging about having things stolen. Perhaps it’s the sense of injustice. It’s bad enough for us, who can (more or less) easily replace the things that were stolen. But for someone who has saved for three months to then have it stolen in less than a week is seriously depressing.

We came back from Lichinga yesterday. We’d gone there to see Lori get married. She married Victor, a man from Congo. He must be a very special man. Lori is such a godly lady that anyone she would be willing to marry must be very special and spiritual.

We came back from Lichinga yesterday. We’d gone there to see Lori get married. She married Victor, a man from Congo. He must be a very special man. Lori is such a godly lady that anyone she would be willing to marry must be very special and spiritual.

It was a lovely wedding, as most weddings are. Both Lori and Victor come from strong Christian homes, with all parents and grandparents being firm believers.

Two of Victor’s relatives arrived late this afternoon to stay in our guesthouse. I’m ashamed to say that there is still some racist attitude within me. Not that I disliked them or anything like that — they were nice people. But I know I didn’t treat them in the same way that I would have treated Europeans. If they were European, I would have tried to take better care of them, offering to drive them around or making sure they had everything they needed. But being African, I more or less treated them as if they could fend for themselves.

I know I could justify my actions if I wanted to: one of them has lived in Mozambique and speaks Portuguese fluently, so they didn’t need as much help as someone without the language; as a fellow South African, Ron was actively looking after them, and I didn’t need to; they were more comfortable without us around. And all those things are true. But, I know in my heart that I made a distinction and I shouldn’t have.

That teaching about favouritism in James 2 came to mind. Please Lord help me to be kind to all people equally.

I’ve forgotten just how much I dislike learning languages. The process of learning Makua is keeping me humble, at very least. I hate the feeling of being stupid. Our teacher regularly laughs at my poor attempts to speak, or shakes her head in disapproval at my failures to understand. Making it worse is the fact that Nicola does so much better than I do. I know that makes me an excessively shallow person, but it would be easier for my ego if we both struggled — but she doesn’t. I think she would make a great linguist.

I’ve forgotten just how much I dislike learning languages. The process of learning Makua is keeping me humble, at very least. I hate the feeling of being stupid. Our teacher regularly laughs at my poor attempts to speak, or shakes her head in disapproval at my failures to understand. Making it worse is the fact that Nicola does so much better than I do. I know that makes me an excessively shallow person, but it would be easier for my ego if we both struggled — but she doesn’t. I think she would make a great linguist.

It does seem as if we’ve turned the corner on the famine situation. We have far less people coming to ask for food now, compared with the beginning of the month. We gave away an entire sack of maize in less than a week at the beginning of the month, but the second sack has lasted until now, and there is still a bit left. There are still lots of needy people and we’ll have no difficulty in giving away the maize/beans/rice that we have.

It does seem as if we’ve turned the corner on the famine situation. We have far less people coming to ask for food now, compared with the beginning of the month. We gave away an entire sack of maize in less than a week at the beginning of the month, but the second sack has lasted until now, and there is still a bit left. There are still lots of needy people and we’ll have no difficulty in giving away the maize/beans/rice that we have.

Both Nicola and I have been under serious spiritual attack. It quite amazes me how strong these attacks can be. Temptations that I thought long dead have been coming back in force. And even though I know I’m being attacked, I still let myself get angry or annoyed at small things that I should just be able to overlook.

Both Nicola and I have been under serious spiritual attack. It quite amazes me how strong these attacks can be. Temptations that I thought long dead have been coming back in force. And even though I know I’m being attacked, I still let myself get angry or annoyed at small things that I should just be able to overlook.

The peace that Nicola treasured so much in Australia has been seriously eroded, in particular the peace of not worrying about what others think. Please, Lord, give her again that peace that guards the heart and mind.

I remember thinking when I was a young Christian that not being allowed to sin would take away from the fun of life. That sin was somehow a source of enjoyment. But there is nothing good about sin. It’s not fun; it never produces anything beneficial; it only ruins things. If I gave into these temptations or attacks, my life would only get worse. I’d make myself, and those around me, miserable.

God’s plan is much, much better.

I started teaching the Heresies course tonight. It was supposed to start last night, but it was pelting with rain and all but one of the students stayed at home. Staying at home was certainly the sensible thing to do, since the power went off 10 minutes after the lesson was supposed to start. So, I and the one student sat in the dark for half an hour, listening to rain pound on the roof, before we gave it up as a lost cause and went home.

I started teaching the Heresies course tonight. It was supposed to start last night, but it was pelting with rain and all but one of the students stayed at home. Staying at home was certainly the sensible thing to do, since the power went off 10 minutes after the lesson was supposed to start. So, I and the one student sat in the dark for half an hour, listening to rain pound on the roof, before we gave it up as a lost cause and went home.

I’d forgotten just how much preparation you need to give a 90 minute lesson. It’s a lot, especially if you want the students to stay awake. For that, you not only need the material, but you need to have planned how to present it in an interesting and preferably interactive way. It’s a night course for people who work hard during the day — if you’re dull, the entire class will be asleep within minutes! It’s a real-time evaluation of your teaching skill!

We visited Pastor Marcelino this afternoon. He’s the pastor of the Assemblies of God, Christian Vision church. He’s an honourable man, with a godly wife, and nice relationship between them.

We visited Pastor Marcelino this afternoon. He’s the pastor of the Assemblies of God, Christian Vision church. He’s an honourable man, with a godly wife, and nice relationship between them.

He was deathly sick with malaria over the weekend. Being sick is not unusual for people here, but this must have been bad. He apparently told his wife to make sure his suit was clean and pressed because he would be needing it (men are often buried in their suits here). They joked about this when we visited them, but it’s an indication of just how bad he felt.

There have been five deaths in our beirro this week, three adults, one child, and one baby. We think most of those have been caused by malaria, combined with weakness from famine.

The next few weeks are going to be the worst. Everyone is desperate, and the new maize won’t be ready until mid-March. I hate saying no to people who I think are really in need.

We took another 20 sacks of grain today to another village, and the contrast with last weeks distribution couldn’t have been greater. Today was almost the ideal distribution, the sort you write about in glossy magazines to send to donors. The village was Cugûlo, 20km north of Cuamba, and then 60km west into true bush. Why there is anything there, I have no idea. It’s literally in the middle of nowhere.

We took another 20 sacks of grain today to another village, and the contrast with last weeks distribution couldn’t have been greater. Today was almost the ideal distribution, the sort you write about in glossy magazines to send to donors. The village was Cugûlo, 20km north of Cuamba, and then 60km west into true bush. Why there is anything there, I have no idea. It’s literally in the middle of nowhere.

The village is a small, widely spaced place, with four cement buildings, sandy soil, a few trees, a mud brick school house, no electricity, no piped water. A solar charged, battery powered radio is their link to the outside world.

It did have ants — lots of big ones. The whole ground swarmed with them. To escape, you could climb a tree, stand on top of the cars, or stand in puddle of water. None of those seemed very dignified, so I just let them crawl over my legs. The locals said that if you stand still, the ants don’t bite. I’m not sure that anyone had explained that to the ants! At best, you could say they don’t bite very often.

The local administrator was expecting us, and had drawn up two copies of the list of people to receive food. The list was arranged alphabetically — a good sign, since it shows that they were well organised and that they weren’t trying to curry favour by putting important peoples’ names first.

The actual process of giving out the grain went very smoothly. There was no jostling or threatening. For the few people who were on the list but not actually present, the administrator put aside their portion to give them when they arrived. Afterwards, the administrator and the local chief publicly thanked us for bring the grain, and the people clapped.

Why was this distribution so different? There was a different spirit in this village, compared with Entre Lagos. There was respect and order (in the good sense of the word). You had the feeling that people really would take care of one another here, that many of the positive aspects of African traditional cultures still operated.

Today was a balance to last week’s much more emotionally turbulent distribution. And another good example of how life refuses to be packaged into neat sound bites.

We distributed 100 sacks of grain today to people in need. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it means that about 250 families won’t be hungry for a couple of weeks.

We distributed 100 sacks of grain today to people in need. It doesn’t sound like a lot, but it means that about 250 families won’t be hungry for a couple of weeks.

If I was writing for a quarterly publication, I’d emphasis the need of the people, the value of the distribution, the gratitude of the recipients, and the need for donors to give more. It would be a neat little piece. But reality is more complex, with lots of untidy bits around the edges.

One of the tricky problems is deciding who is going to get the grain. There are several thousand families in these towns. We don’t want a riot, with people trying to grab whatever they can (as has happened in other places when a food distribution has been badly planned).

To prevent a riot, we had arranged for lists of names to be written up before we arrived, and only people whose names were on the list were able to receive the grain. The local administrators and church leaders had been asked to put only people who were truly in need on the list. That’s a tricky and fragile ideal, relying on the honesty of those drawing up the lists. It’s far easier to simply list all family and church members, plus curry favour with the local powers by making sure their names appear on the list.

Distributing the food was an emotionally complicated experience.

• Compassion — seeing people in need, sometimes desperately so.
• Satisfaction — knowing that we’re making a significant difference in some lives.
• Anger — at the injustice of the powerful ensuring that they get their share, whilst truly poor and hungry people receive nothing.
• Disappointment — with the complete lack of gratitude shown by almost everyone involved
• Annoyance — with the large number of other requests for help. Not essential help, just things I want. Santa Claus has come to town. Can you help us (i.e. pay) for our church building? Can you put a corrugated iron roof on my house? My nephew needs a job.
• Sadness — at being insulted and abused by those who didn’t get anything.

Rather than driving away with thanks, we were hissed and shouted at as we left town.

I preached in church today, teaching about Jesus coming back and the final judgement. At the end of the service, the pastor led a time of repentance, and many people seemed genuinely touched by the Spirit.

I preached in church today, teaching about Jesus coming back and the final judgement. At the end of the service, the pastor led a time of repentance, and many people seemed genuinely touched by the Spirit.

I think that was partly God’s way of encouraging me because after last weeks service, I was more than a little discouraged. There were seven men, seven women, and six youth in the service. The elders and deacons who were here when we left last year, have all left the church.

While we were away, the church split. Even after talking to both sides, I still don’t understand why the split occurred.

Things have changed with Pastor Augusto. Can’t quite explain what’s different, but we’re not as relaxed with each other as we used to be. I sometimes wonder if he’s disappointed or discouraged. After being in charge of the church for four years, the church is smaller and weaker than when he began. Or is this simply projection on my part?

Is there something going on here that I’m just not seeing? Please, Lord, open the eyes of my heart so I can see what You see.

There is real famine here, and Nicola and I feel helpless to know what to do. The famine is not so much in the town itself — though there are hungry people here too — but in the villages around Cuamba, people really are dying.

There is real famine here, and Nicola and I feel helpless to know what to do. The famine is not so much in the town itself — though there are hungry people here too — but in the villages around Cuamba, people really are dying.

In Entre Lagos, Girasole, Ettatara, the price of corn is four times its normal price, and people can’t afford to buy it. So they eat mandioka leaves (which have no nutritional value) or wild tubers (which are poisonous and have to be prepared very carefully if you don’t want to die).

The first of this years harvest should be ready by the end of February, so the famine will only last until then. But that’s still five or six weeks off, and you can easily die before then.

We arrived back in Cuamba today! It was a long drive, punctuated by interesting events at the border crossing. I’m glad we’re back.

We arrived back in Cuamba today! It was a long drive, punctuated by interesting events at the border crossing. I’m glad we’re back.

When we got to the border at Chiponde (Mandimba), the immigration official pointed out that we had overstayed our tourist visa by 2 days. We had asked for 14 days, and we had stayed 16 days. He said we had to return to Blantyre (4 hours drive) and argue with Immigration HQ. We were now illegal immigrants and he could have me and all my family put in jail.

At first, I thought they were playing with me. I’ve crossed this border many times (though I didn’t know the guy I was dealing with today) and always chatted happily with them. But they weren’t — they wanted a bribe or they would send me back to Blantyre. There was no way I wanted to drive back to Blantyre. They had me, and they knew it.

I felt angry when we finally got through the border. I also felt dirty inside. It’s unpleasant when people use their power over you to get what they want.

I was worried that the Mozambican border would be even more complicated. We didn’t have a resident’s visa, so we would have to buy a tourist visa there. Plus, we had all this stuff in the car, which, as tourists, we should have had to pay import duties (as returning residents, it would have been exempt). But, happily, there wasn’t a single problem. My Portuguese returned enough to chat comprehensibly with the officials. The tourist visas were arranged. The customs guy said he didn’t even want to look at our car :-)

It used to be that the Mozambican border was difficult, whilst the Malawi border was friendly and easy. But that certainly wasn’t my experience today.

I’m feeling a curious sense of dejá-vu as I write this entry. I’m sitting in the SIM guesthouse in Malawi (not my favourite place in the world), tired from Isabella having slept badly for the last few nights, and waiting to call the mechanic to see if the problem with our car can be fixed and if so what the extravagant price will be. I’m sure I’ve done this before somewhere.

I’m feeling a curious sense of dejá-vu as I write this entry. I’m sitting in the SIM guesthouse in Malawi (not my favourite place in the world), tired from Isabella having slept badly for the last few nights, and waiting to call the mechanic to see if the problem with our car can be fixed and if so what the extravagant price will be. I’m sure I’ve done this before somewhere.

I called the mechanic this morning. The rear differential is completely shot, and the half-shaft is gone too. To buy these parts new will be more than 400,000MK (~AUD$4000). He’s going to see if he can get them second hand from somewhere, but that process may take the rest of the week! So, we’re stuck in Malawi for at least another week :-)

How am I going to react to this situation? There are two issues: one is with the car, and the second is with my heart. Fixing the car is only a matter of time and money — I don’t know where the money will come from, but there’s nothing difficult for God there. But my heart is the real testing point. Will I trust God now, right at the beginning of our term, with this issue that’s annoying me? Will I be grumpy and irritable because I’m tired and things haven’t worked out the way I’ve wanted? Or will I be able to let go of my annoyance, and make the most of this unexpected time with joy and peace?

To be honest, the grumpiness is winning at the moment, but I’m working on the joy and acceptance part :-)

We’ve been staying in the middle of tea plantain. It’s a slightly rundown, old style colonial house with high ceilings, huge rooms, and afternoon tea served on the front patio. Someone has done the cooking for us, and we’ve had a great time of relaxing and catching up with what’s been happening in Cuamba and Mozambique.

We’ve been staying in the middle of tea plantain. It’s a slightly rundown, old style colonial house with high ceilings, huge rooms, and afternoon tea served on the front patio. Someone has done the cooking for us, and we’ve had a great time of relaxing and catching up with what’s been happening in Cuamba and Mozambique.

Isabella hasn’t helped with the relaxing part, since she’s been crying and disturbed every night since we arrived in the Africa. Last night, she woke crying at 10pm and was disturbed until 4am. I don’t know how we coped with 11 months of this last year. You really do start to feel a little loopy after several nights of bad sleep. Please Lord let her learn to sleep better at night.

The Wheatleys arrived yesterday from Mozambique. It was great to see them again. They brought our car with them, which has been running well since we left.

The Wheatleys arrived yesterday from Mozambique. It was great to see them again. They brought our car with them, which has been running well since we left.

This morning, I went to begin the process of collecting our cargo from the cargo depot. On the way to the airport, our car broke! All of sudden, there was no power and a nasty noise whenever I let out the clutch. I coasted to the side of the road, and thought about what to do next. No mobile phone, no one with me, not even a book to read. Turned out that I had stopped in front of a mechanic’s garage (of sorts). He had a quick look at the car, and decided that the differential had broken. It also turned out that there was a telephone bureau next to the garage, and Nicola had put an SIM business card in my wallet that morning, thinking that I might need the contact numbers while getting the cargo. I phoned Nicola, and she let the Wheatleys know. Eventually, Steven turned up, and we towed our car to a mechanic who had worked on our car before. He was busy, but promised to have a look at the car as soon as possible, probably Monday.

The God who can arrange for our car to grind to a halt outside of garage and a phone bureau and for me to have an SIM business card in my pocket, could have just as easily arranged for the differential not to break. Differentials are just as much in His control as are business cards and the location of broken down cars.

After delivering the car, we returned Jo and Sarah to where they were staying since Sarah was feeling sick. Then Steven and I went to retrieve the cargo. That process was remarkably smooth. The freight office knew about our cargo, the customs officer inspected our goods and accepted that we were taking them to Mozambique (this was a minor miracle — when the Groves tried the same thing, they had to take an escort with them to the border), and thus didn’t have to pay any import duties! The clearing agent handled all the paperwork without problem, and by 3pm, we were leaving the airport with all our cargo in the back of the 4WD. Praise God!

While the clearing agent was dealing with paperwork, we managed to go and do the shopping for the few days the Wheatleys and us were going to spend away in a guesthouse together.

Once we had unloaded the cargo into an SIM container for safekeeping, we rounded up Nicola and the kids, and went to get Jo and Sarah. Unfortunately, they had locked themselves out of the place where they were staying, so we had to break into the house, get their stuff, fix the break-in damage, and then finally (5pm) head off for our few days away.

It was a very long day for all involved, but a productive one.

Flew out of Sydney this morning. Tearful farewells all round. Both mothers made us promise that this was the last term.

Flew out of Sydney this morning. Tearful farewells all round. Both mothers made us promise that this was the last term.

The 13-hour flight was much better than it could have been. Isabella only had one or two bad patches. Drew had a bad headache and tummy pains for a while — maybe a reaction to our first dose of Mefloquine. Joshua was in heaven — games on tap (he spent 11 of the 13 hours playing games), food brought to him, and only resting his eyes when his parents threatened him with death!

Once we arrived in Jo’berg, things were easy. Our luggage was checked through so we only had hand luggage. Someone from the guesthouse met us at the airport, and drove us to the place we were staying. It was quaint, a little cluttered, but generally well maintained and pleasant. We all enjoyed a dip in the pool before dinner! They even had wireless broadband internet, so I sat in the garden and wrote some emails. Cool :-)