If you have stress when you dance like this ….

I woke to a refreshing breeze coming off Lake Victoria. I had slept fitfully, dogs barked in nearby compounds, hippo’s grunted amongst the shallow water hyacinth and bullfrogs maintained a steady chorus of calls throughout the night. I wandered downstairs (the lifts, inevitably, are “out of order”) and into the dining room of the hotel for breakfast. A smiling face greeted me. “Welcome back Tim”, she said, “we have missed you”.

This is why I like coming to Sunset. It is a hotel whose best days seem to be behind it, but the grounds are lush with tropical trees and foliage, brightly coloured birds sing amongst the purple jacarandas and monkeys wander through the trees from the nearby park. But most of all, it’s the people. There is always a smile, always a greeting and it always feels nice. The chef cooked me an egg, “Fried”, she said, “but softly”. It reminded me of my English skin in the equatorial sun – fried, but softly!

Refreshed by hot tea and toast, I sat on the terrace and waited for Moses, who collected me exactly on the regulation 20 minutes after the time we had agreed.

We took to the dusty streets of Kisumu, making our way through the busy market traffic to Kibos. There has been a revolution in the roads in Kisumu. Chinese contractors have built new flyovers connecting the airport road with Nairobi road and with Kondele, the busy suburb we pass through on route to our home in Kibos. It saves many minutes of fighting through aggressive matatu drivers and avoiding stray tuk tuks wondering across the roads to avoid pot holes and speed bumps (it always amuses me how people fly over the speed bumps but slow down and edge cautiously around the potholes). Maybe the council has a strategy! As I say, it saves many minutes – or it would do if people actually used the right side of the road, didn’t jump out of every junction, didn’t pile their motorcycles and boda bodas with every conceivable and improbable item of furniture.

Thirty minutes after the agreed time we arrived in Kibos. It didn’t matter, it never does, it’s just my Englishness that understands time in a different dimension and tries to adhere to it. 

Maybe I will learn, one day!

We entered the church at Kibos and I walked towards my usual seat at the front right of the church, greeting familiar faces and new friends as I arrived.

Then Nellie got up, Benson took his place on the keyboard, Moses on the guitar and the music started. And the praise started. And the dancing started. And the time … well, it didn’t matter. Nellie has sung worship in the church ever since it was started, around 12 years ago. I love her passion and her movement, she sings with her whole body, the rhythm is projected in her song and in her dance and it is infectious. Moses once told me that I dance “like a muzungu (a white man - I don't think it was a complement!)”, but I don’t care, I clap and, when I recognise a song, I sing along too.

Then Moses took the microphone and began to sing, clap, dance, jump around and everything else. He must have been cooking in his suit, (perhaps softly!), but he led worship with joy. “you cannot dance like this and have stress”, he cried out through the microphone, “if you dance like this and have stress you will need 50 litres of anointing oil!”. I laughed and laughed.

When the worship was done I greeted the church, passed love and thoughts from all in the UK, from Pam and from Nicky, from Harry and Madeleine, who went last year, from Rebekah, who's raising money for an outdoor classroom, from the members of Ackworth Boys Brigade who will be going out again in October (they can’t wait to see you again!), they were joyful to know that they are in our thoughts and our prayers. And suddenly it felt, well, less like a trip and more like a family.

I preached a message from Matthew 5 and Moses led us in prayer. Two men who had come for the first time then greeted the church (visitors always get invited to the front to say hello). The said who they were, that this was their first time, that they were not “born again” but they have heard God speak to them and they would like to be, so Moses and I prayed with them. I felt really moved. My family has two more members.

We rushed from the church and jumped in the car again, this time bound for Kachok.

Kachok is the little tin shed church by the municipal rubbish dump in Kisumu. The very first time Nicky and I went to Kisumu we visited the dump and heard the stories of the men and boys who scavenge there, eking out what living they can from the plastics, bottles and metals discarded by others. 

It is a disconcerting place to walk into if you are not familiar with it. The hut is alive with flies, tapping out every worship rhythm, dancing around your feet and buzzing out their own songs.

But it is also a very moving place and, as I entered, familiar faces greeted me – John, Cosmas, Gurang, Daniel, Kevin, Mary, people I have met with here over many years, whose presence is a testimony to belonging to a place and serving a particular people.

Moses led us in worship again, the tin hut alive with song, with clapping and dancing. I greeted the people again, bringing news from the UK and a word from the bible. Then John invited Daniel to share a testimony.

I have written about Daniel before when I visited him at Moi on his first year at University as he was settling in. He is a wonderful young man. We met him when he was 12 years old, a street boy, finding food where he could. John had taken him under his wing and tried to help him and both Nicky and I met with him at Kachok fellowships over a number of visits. We agreed to support him through the Trust, first at primary and then at secondary school. 

Life has been hard for Daniel. His mother suffered a stroke when he was young and has struggled to support him. She is now in hospital and has been there for almost 6 weeks, having suffered a relapse. Daniel appealed to the local MP, who has helped with the hospital fees, but things have not been easy.

Daniel excelled at secondary school, gaining really good grades in his KCSE and is now in his final year at Moi University. Every week he comes back to this little church at the dump, to the place where his life changed. He shares his stories, he encourages the younger children, helps to serve the food and drink to those who turn up to the church. He is working hard, hoping to gain a scholarship to do a masters. I hope and pray with all my heart that he succeeds. “I want to thank you people for all that you have done for me”, he says, “if you hadn’t believed in me I wouldn’t be where I am. I know that your blood does not flow in my veins, but you have treated me like your son and I am grateful”.

In the Isaiah Trust we believe that our family is broad, that we are brothers and sisters together, irrespective of the distance between us or the colour of our skin. I might dance like a muzungu, but my brothers are African.

And no, I don’t need all that anointing oil. Not after today.