On the first day in Buloma, we were driven to the Bishop’s compound. It was a series of brick houses with corrugated-iron roofs under trees. There was a noisy throng at the gate and some ladies in colourful red-and-blue patterned dresses were dancing their way up to us. Whooping and singing they advanced and had wreaths in their hands and looked like they were about to greet some dignitaries. I looked behind me wondering who these might be- and realized we were they!
We went off to one side and sat with the Bishop, his son and some other elders whilst the ladies did their beautiful dances to the side. The ladies then served us lunch. I noticed they did not have any lunch till later. I smiled to myself as I thought what my wife (a Kiwi from a land that is very much the opposite to a patriarchal society) would have made of this.
We learned from the Bishop that an evangelistic campaign had not been held in the area for thirty-three years. The churches also had never come together in the same way, he said. Initially the goal had been to get 300 participants to attend the conference.
“So how many have you had signed up now?” Charles asked.
“About one thousand two hundred.” was the bishop’s reply. Most of them would have to be bused in , he said (an extra expense for us) , but many would just walk.
This was gratifying news indeed and I began to adjust my expectations for the three-day event.
After saying our goodbyes to the wonderful hosts, we made our way with driver Eric to the ground where the crusade was to be held- a bare, grassy piece of land between the hospital and the Deputy Commissioner’s residence, opposite some very rudimentary stores on the main ,unpaved high road through the town. I saw with amusement posters with our faces on it advertising the 3 -day event, affixed to trees and storefronts and fences along the road. Revival Fire Ministries and Beautiful Feet outreach were big in Buloma!
I felt a familiar urge to visit the little boy’s room, which was a makeshift toilet erected over a hastily dug hole on the side of the field (I think there were actually two what we would call back home “portaloos” for the entire conference). As I walked past some curious local children , one of the boys called out to me rather solemnly, “John Reason” obviously connecting my face to the various posters plastered around his town. I smiled back, amused.
Eric, our driver took us back to the hotel and for me , it was lights out shortly thereafter.
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Over breakfast, Deji requested some of Hadassah’s home-made anti mosquito spray, as someone else had testified to its efficacy.
Then Eric took us the same route as the day before back to the crusade ground. A few tent frames had gone up, but nothing much else. It was suggested it would be welcomed if we paid a visit to the Deputy Commissioner in the properties adjacent, so we did. I don’t remember the name but she was a charming Muslim woman who graciously welcomed us to her town, and we ended up praying for her and this was graciously received. We then went across to a hospital on the other side of the field and prayed for some sick patients. Encouragingly, the head of the establishment was a Christian, and enthusiastically welcomed us.
Hadassah used to be a theatre nurse in a New Zealand hospital and tells some interesting stories. We have heard also first-hand reports from friends and friends of friends (including a close relative) suffering botched operations and general incompetence at the hands of trained “professionals” in our health system, and I thought to myself, if it ever came to it, would it not be better to be in a hospital whose Head was a Christian, who had faith, even if on a greatly reduced funding? (Like many other countries, New Zealand has lost many excellent doctors and nurses because they refused to be manipulated and coerced by the government and the Medical council, into taking the jab. Many lost their medical licenses.)
The first full day of the conference I taught on faith, as Pastor Charles had requested.
“They were listening”, evangelist Ashalu observed.
The evangelist Ashalu then proceeded to give a demonstration of fiery oratory the likes of which I doubt had ever been witnessed on that field-all under the hot sun- whilst the pastors and leaders took it all in from the shelter of the colourful gazebos and mini-pavilions that had been erected the days before. Pastor Charles preached an interesting message on “Where money is hiding”. Finances-or lack thereof-was and is a challenge to these poor, hardworking saints and I understood from some of them that they battled the very familiar problem of government corruption, rising prices and lack of delivery on promises made pre-election.
Evangelist Deji preached a good message that evening (from memory, which is inexact!) and we had a bigger crowd than in the morning, as it was meant to be evangelistic and there were quite a lot of visitors. After the meeting we jumped tiredly in the Toyota after saying goodbye to various onlookers.
Eric seemed to be a man possessed-or at least, in a hurry to get us back to Bungoma-and he drove rather recklessly around swathes of people leaving the field after the evening meeting; he nearly ran over a child and probably would have done if Charles had not slammed his hand down on the front dashboard of the vehicle indicating “Stop”.
The trip home was uneventful but he acquired the name “Reckless Eric” from then.