Quick Trip up to Kampala

I took a 3 day “hiatus” to return to Kampala to meet up with Kelly Christian. (Kelly grew up at my Church, St. John’s, and wanted to visit Tanzania, so we arranged that I would “collect” her in Kampala and deliver her at the Bishop’s house). She had been working with Solar Light for Africa, a Christian NGO that installed solar panels in remote villages, for the last 2 weeks. It was somewhat amusing to join the small world of these 23 students and spend 24 hours with the group. Most of the students had just graduated from high school or had just begun college. They had had a very comfortable, regulated trip with security guards, stayed in nice hotels the whole time, and ate only safe American food. Curfews at 10pm...They couldn’t even cross the street unsupervised. Everything was regulated and planned out for them. When I told them about what I had been doing over the last month, I think they were a bit surprised at the disparity between our experiences: almost dying on a motorcycle, crossing borders every week, traveling alone, sleeping and eating out in the bush without electricity, losing all my luggage, having to make all decisions regarding money, etc. They were great kids and they were having a ball the whole trip...jokes, fun and games. It was good to be around people that were enjoying themselves so much and took Africa with such lightness and optimism. I think I was getting a bit grounded down...assuming the worst in situations, yet stoic about everything. These kids made me see that I might be taking myself a bit too seriously and I should lighten up a bit.

Kelly’s team left the Entebbe airport (where the Last King of Scotland hostage crisis happened) on Friday evening, and Kelly and I got a free ride back up to Kampala. We were advised by the NGO to go to a new hotel in the posh hotel district. Kelly insisted on paying for everything while we were in Kampala since I was taking time to come out to bring her back to Tanzania, so it was nice not have to worry about money for a few days. The hotel was run by a bunch of Indian guys that were somewhat annoying and pushy. The room was very overpriced and small, but since we were tired as dogs and didn’t want to spend the time and money hiring another taxi and find another hotel we settled for this place.

We took motorcycles 5 minutes into the city. It was Kelly’s first moto ride, and I instructed the two motorcycle drivers to “go very slow...polay polay”!!! (slow in Swahili) They did and we inched along through the insane Kampala traffic. We got money out at the Bank and went to my favorite Indian restaurant again (the one I took Canon John and his family a couple weeks previous) and enjoyed a delicious dinner of Chicken masala, curry, nan, and a single beautiful beer. I hadn’t had any alcohol for a month, because the church here is vigorously against it and see it as sinful as theft. So I abstain for the sake of my brothers here, but when the opportunity comes up, I enjoy the fruit of the land.

After a somewhat stressful and frustrating morning with Indian hotel manager who treated us like children, but was completely incompetent with what he was doing, we boarded the bus to Bukoba Tanzania, and 2 cliff bars, 100 pages in my new novel King Solomon’s Mines, a rain storm, and 6 hours of rumbling noise we arrived into the arms of the Bishop and his family.

To make things comfortable and easier for Kelly’s transition out of posh life with her NGO, I have moved out of the guestroom to let her have own space. There is another little concrete house behind the main house where Fadihili stays, and Mama Josephine fixed me up a nice bed next to Fadihili’s bed. There’s a little bathroom, only accessible from the outside, next to my room that I now use...an old rusty bicycle folded in half is crumpled in the corner and other junk sits on one side of the room, while a pipe in the ground serves a general drain for showers and washing on the other side. I kind of like using it and enjoy the rustic feeling of it.

This morning we set off in the church mini van to go visit a church an hour away out in the bush. However 3 miles later, some dudes along side of the dusty dirt road shouted at us and pointed at the back tire...flat and hissing away. We got out, had some of the locals help the driver fix the tire, and then waited for the driver to drive back and switch cars. He pulled up to our little stranded group in a cloud of dust, revving the engine of the ancient Land Rover. We hulled down the dirt road...now late to church. Of course the church would not start until we had arrived, but of course we had to go through the formality of having breakfast at the pastor’s house before going to the church. The pastor was a jolly, roly-poly, pastor with two lazy eyes, and ran out to meet us in a big black robe with a white rope tied around his thick waist.

We arrived in glen and I spied a beautiful stone church with a bell tower overlooking a gentle slopping valley. “Is that the church?” I asked with some excitement. “No, that’s the Lutheran church.” It seems like all the nice churches around here are Lutheran. (Tanzania used to be a German colony). We pulled up to little makeshift tent with a cross made of sticks on it. It had no proper walls, just cloth and sticks and reeds to keep out the rain and wind, and soft grass on the dirt floor. We walked to the vestry, which we crammed with half a dozen clergy with their bags of robes and everyone, including the bishop, struggled into their vestments in the cramped little room, and then processed in to an exuberant congregation. They didn’t have much of church building, but boy they had the Spirit moving there! They began the service with a confirmation of a dozen children and received two women who had been Catholics, then after a few songs by the choir, I got up to preach on Matthew 7 and talked about spiritual fruit and how we can be fruitful Christians. They were a wonderfully responsive congregation and shouted “Amen” every now and then. It was very fun. Then we followed the Holy Communion service in the Tanzania prayer book (which is a direct translation of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer in Swahili...for those who care). Kelly and I got up and were presented with gifts from the church and the Mothers Union (a purple mat, a woven little bag full of peanuts that hung around our necks, and a cow hide with our names engraved on it). We gave some speeches and then went outside and with great pomp and ceremony laid the cornerstone of the stone church building they intend to build this coming year. They had made a plaque with the following painted on it: “The corner stone of this buildings is put by Mr. Benjamen Moore and Kelly Christian. On behalf of the fellow christens of St. John the Evangelist Anglican Church Philadelphia U.S.A. on 29th July 2007.” It was a great honor to participate in the ceremony.

We look forward to another busy week this coming week: visiting four churches tomorrow, preaching another sermon at one, then another confirmation service on Tuesday where I’ll preach again, and then heading out to Rwanda for a conference/revival meeting on Wednesday. I’ll be getting a new battery charger this weekend in Rwanda from my friends who are coming from Washington DC to the conference, so next week I’ll begin uploading pictures and hopefully videos.