Maundy Thursday

Thursday the fourth.
One of the most over heard topics is still sleep. I feel I am doing well but not yet totally adjusted. I did wake up early today and did not have to rush to breakfast. As I was shaving I kept hearing a voice that sounded like someone praying or talking but as I listened I could hear that it was Scripture being read. Later at breakfast I mentioned to my neighbors (the sisters) that I enjoyed the Scripture reading of the morning. Well you would have thought that a special session of the Montana Inquisition had just been called into session. It was one of their voices coming through my window but you would have thought I had some high tech electronic bugging device invading their sacred space. I mean the orator was reading toward an open window which was right next to mine but the incisive interrogation focused on what if anything else might have been overhearing.
After breakfast the children arrived and we started our day. What a spectacular group of kids! We all agree that we have a special group of boys and girls to work with. There was some rain coming down as they were arriving which bothers most people here very little. Some were a little muddy but knew where the hose was to rinse their ankles and flip flops. Some of the pupils in my group actually attend regular school in the classroom where we meet so they are a rich resource about where to find things and how things are usually done. Mornings begin with opening exercises. The electronics are working well now but we did have a small problem with the 220 extension cord. When no lights appeared on the projector after it was tuned on Peggy unplugged the extension cord which responded with a crackle as it was removed. Placing the plug into the next outlet produced a much louder pop accompanied by the acrid smell of ozone leading us to believe we might need another cord. But after we borrowed a cord from the DVD machine everything went well. A few of the teachers take turns leading the music and the kids really get into the songs and the motions.
Lunch was hamburgers, French fries and salad I finally had I mean got to sit next to our team leader Peggy. We have been studying about Peter being knick named “The Rock” and she labeled me as the “Most Onry Member of the Team”. I was kinda proud. I had worked hard to gain the appellation and at least she pronounced it right and did not say “ornery”. Then despite the grey skies and drizzle and the threat of worse to come I agreed to lead the Montana Sisters on a walk back to the school. From the dining room we walked down a muddy (but not deep mud) road bordered by a random range of concrete buildings both residential and commercial. A missionary in a pickup truck offered us a ride but graciously declined. As we walked there were people in jeans, children in shorts and flip flops and men wearing black suits, white shirts, ties and dress shoes passing the other way. The colors and patterns of the African women’s clothes are so bright and attractive. At the bottom of the hill is a major thoroughfare. It has two lanes but traffic is heavy and it is more like crossing a four lane highway. Trucks belching huge clouds of putrid diesel exhaust that nearly obscure the rear quarter of the vehicles tailgate denizens of yellow cabs interspersed with cars of every European model and make. Some autos with western logos complete the mix. Few and far between are any which could boast an un scratched and un dented exterior. We needed to travel about 500 feet to the right but with the heavy traffic and being situated on the top of a rise that fell off in each direction we waited quite near the “T “ intersection until we got enough of a space to scurry across. About this time the van with the rest of the team the team passed as we tried to stay as far away from the traffic as we could without running into the mud puddles, any of the other pedestrians or the queue waiting for the bus. Taxi drivers keep accepting fares until every seat is filled and even overfilled and most of them tooted at us as if trying to get us to ride. At least that was my I thought at the time. Perhaps the attractive American women were the catalyst for all the horn blowing. Turning left off the main road we climbed a pot hole filled macadam road lined be both homes and businesses and mingled with other pedestrians traveling both up and down the incline. Soon the road turned into a gravel road (also muddy) that led home. At the gate to the center the guard buzzed us in and we were safe.
Fun and games like steal the bacon by Mr. Turner’s rules ensued along with some relay races followed by indoor activities. After supper which was a delicious salad bar set up I washed the dishes but do not have any pictures to prove it. I guess “Whine, whine, whine.”photographer at the ready. Earlier in the day when I took my class over to Ann and Glenda’s for closing exercises I remarked how much cooler their room was than mine. Glenda in her patented way of smiling beautifully at you with her eyes and lips while she playfully knifes you with her tongue replied, “Whine, whine, whine.” Of course I laughed and thought no harm was done. But while I was washing dishes and she was drying, she started whimpering about how the water in the rinse sink might be a little too hot for her tender Montana fingers. In complete disregard for our lesson of the day about never yielding to the temptation for revenge I distinctly recall those three little words slipping back out of my heart and over my lips, “Whine, whine, whine.” I think she wanted to punch me in the arm but admirably exhibited complete self control and just laughed. I suspect we have not heard the last of the, “Whine, whine, whine” saga yet. The devotional topic tonight was joy led by Bob. We all shared times of joy in our personal lives and then he shared some scriptural truth about how to maintain our joy. Our devotions will center on fruits of the Spirit during our time here.
Some of the team members had alerted family members to catch this blog before they really knew me. Now that they are hearing responses from their relatives they are issuing all sorts of caveats about how seriously everything in these musings should be taken and with how many grains of salt. I tried early on to establish a consensus on the percentage of misinformation allowable within everyone’s comfort zone. The question drew gales of laughter but no one seemed to think of it as a serious query. Left to my own devices I feel at liberty to decide as I go. Tomorrow is Friday, Good Friday to be exact and then comes the weekend when we probably get a lot more African flavor into our activities.