One energetic African Baptist Service Later......

Let me speak to you about Jesus.....Have you opened up and let him into your heart?.......

Ah no, I'm just kidding, but today I did go to Pastor Francis' church to be introduced to the community, and it was a spectacle to behold. First I had to take a bike there, so you go to "the bike place" (which really seems to be it's official name) and negotiate a price and then hop on the back of these motorbikes that look like they're about sixty years old and stuck together with duct tape, not a sign of a helmet or anything, and then you hold on for dear life and your driver navigates dirt and mud tracks which are pretty treacherous because it's rainy season. (There's only one tarred road in the area.) The drivers know their stuff, and they don't fly but it's still a bit mad! And for economy they freewheel down any hills they come to so they can save on petrol (also true in the cars by the way), so half the time you think there's just no way the thing will ever get you where you want to go. But I did make it in the end to my first ever Baptist service. They're certainly not into mumbling the prayers with the only audible syllables being Amen. It was women's day and all of the women wore matching green dresses with the crest of the Cameroon Baptist Church and special matching headscarves. They only wear them once a year, and it's remarkable to think that in a place as poor as this (and these people are poor) that their faith and certain aspects of it are so important to them that they have a specific dress that they only wear once a year. Now I don't know if it was just the day that was in it, but women run the show. The choir has about three token men, who seemingly never turn up for practice because they missed their cue EVERY SINGLE time, which prompted the filthiest looks the from ferocious looking matronly ladies who surrounded them. Truth be told though, they must not have cared too much because the choir sing a lot of songs that are just two or three lines repeated over and over, and the lads still never managed to chime in at the right time. Better them than me! No way would I mess with the Gospel Choir Mafia!!! (Which consists of a huge number of women who could have been body doubles for Bubba's mama and her mama before her and her mama before her.......from Forrest Gump). Aside from the singing, there were African drums at every available opportunity, and dancing in the seats and in the aisle, and in front of the altar, and back at the door (you get it-lots and lots of dancing!). There was also a riot of colour in terms of the children's clothes, and everyone wears their best things for church. How I got through the mass without just snatching up a child or two and making for the nearest plane I'll never know because they take adorable to a whole new level, not least because they dance along with the best of them, picture an entire pew of huge-eyed, laughing, dimpled kids shaking and swaying and singing and clapping about as many different rhythms as there were children. The women lead singing, prayers, play all the characters (male or female) in the play and then the centre piece was the procession of offering at the end when all of the women dance from the door up to the altar with food offerings, and then the guests (me included) are invited to give money, and pick a piece of food. It's all a bit mad, but quite an experience and such a big deal here.

Then we went visiting some of the sponsorship kids, and also a man who is dying of AIDS because his family wanted the pastor to pray for him. There's still a huge stigma here associated with HIV and AIDS. The guy we visited is one of the richest in the area (he owns two huge compounds that I saw) but he was too afraid to go back to the clinic after he was told that he was diagnosed and now he's dying despite the fact that he could easily have afforded the anti-retrovirals that would have meant that he could have lived an almost normal life. And he was not in a good state. It's horrible in two ways-the obvious awfulness of the illness, and also the fact that this man is one of the very few in this country who can actually afford the drugs and he just didn't want to have to admit that he had the disease and now he has no chance, and is in a terrible way. A harsh glimpse of the other reality here after the unfettered rejoicing I saw in the church.

Then on to the local for a drink. Fear not ladies and gentlemen, the shebeen is very definitely still alive and well!! I was in a few today (It's part of the pastor's Sunday routine to visit his flock-be assured we didn't drink in each one) and they were all the same. A small square dark room with benches running all the way along the walls and little tables in front of them, and warm beer or Guinness (it's everywhere here-and the most popular one is called Guinness Smooth and people genuinely believe it gives them smooth skin-it's all served in and drank from the bottles. I've not given my Pull a Guinness crash course here yet.) They actually reminded me of a certain pub near Macreddon in Co. Wicklow, though obviously neither as freaky nor backward as that particular establishment!

The last activity of the busy day was to go and watch the local soccer derby. The action took place on a vaguely rectangular pitch, which had a few areas of quagmire because of the rain, with the ball regularly rolling down the steep hill of bush that ran along one length of the pitch which would lead to a break in play of about five minutes while the ball was retrieved, during which time, the supporters would chant and sing and play drums. You can see why the big clubs are scouting players in Africa now, because they have to be super-skilful to prevail in the playing conditions here, and they really are talented.

All in all a busy day, and tomorrow my routine will hopefully shape up a bit. Today I realised an inalienable truth.....that nothing ever here will be on time and time means little here. When people mention a time they only mean just not before that time, and when people say tomorrow generally what they mean is at some point in the future. I cannot change this , and so have now to try to accept that this is how it is, even though it's incredibly frustrating because it makes me want to scream "Well how can you expect anyone to take you seriously when you can't even show up to something on time?". However, as Mohammed I must go to the mountain, and take deep breaths often, and am finding inspiration in the strangest places including 'The Climb' by Miley Cirus which I seem to put on the i pod very regularly in the evenings-if you'd told me that would be the case you could have knocked me down with a feather. (In my defence Heyday, Her Morning Elegance and The Heathers are also usually in the first four too)

Still have no water, and have literally about five minutes ago come face to face with a mouse in my bedroom, and I don't mean the one on my laptop. I have suspected that it was here for a number of days now, but have managed to avoid it until now. However, I have stood on my bed and swung my phone charger at everything on the food table from a distance so hopefully have scared it into the corridor. The sooner the better I can move into my proper digs so I don't have to keep food in my bedroom the better. Methinks I have a project for tomorrow.

Viva Espana by the way!!!! Didn't see it but a certain Brazilian has kept me informed! Hope Torres finally scored. I fairness that would be a good way to make up for his poor form in the competition-to score the world cup winning goal three minutes before the end of extra time.

Mouse update, as my furry friend made a second appearance on my food table, so I used a water bottle to pick up the rubbish bag and throw it into the corridor in which I think the mouse had taken up. Hmmmmm I think I have a job for Max in the morning.