Tanzania tales...Lameck

I remember the first time I met Lameck. We were visiting a lady called Mkame who was ill and needed the bottles of water and rice we had come to give her. It was the first time I had been along that well trodden path, and woven between those houses that would become so familiar to me.

As we walked, children seemed to appear from no where. Popping up out of the long grass and flocking towards us, reaching for our hands and peering up at us with those large questioning eyes. Lameck was one of them. He came straight towards me, and I remember thinking that his long pointy face seemed too small for his bulging eyes, his wrists too thin for his hands. He didn't smile, just took my hand and answered my stumbling swahili queries with a small voice and simple 'eeehh' (meaning 'yes'). 

I can't remember what happened after that moment. But we often came back to visit that place to check on Mkame, and I began to recognise that 'lameck' kid who I'd seen before.

Halfway through the trip we decided to build Mkame a toilet. It meant that we transferred most of our energy and time to that small little cluster of houses. We would pull up every day in our truck and the children would swarm towards us, grabbing our bags and tools - eager to help us in our work. We would traipse along that small path together and arrive at the worksite.

I have several stand out memories of this quiet, thin and unassuming little boy. The day we first started building the toilet, his gaze fell upon the box of gloves we'd brought with us. Him and lots of of other curious children seized them and wasted no time in donning them with delighted grins.

We soon discovered that Lameck had one brother (Charles) and a sister (Eppi). And that he and his brother had sickle cell anemia. It's a horrible disease, one only found in black africans, where your red blood cells assume an abnormal shape. If he had been a child in the UK it could have been managed by dietary control and his life expectancy would have been fourty or almost fifty years longer. As it was, he lived purely off cassava and he wasn't expected to live to twenty.

As a team we strived to help Lameck and Charles as much as we possibly could. I remember taking him for a blood test at the local health centre (the coptic). I remember him sat on my lap and looking at me with a strange smile on his face as the needle went into his arm. I think ashamedly back to my own blood-test experiences and my face burns - I can barely stand the experience, but these two boys ages 5 and 7, didn't seem bothered at all.

We fought the government hospital, begging them to give the two boys a blood transfusion but they refused. We went to the bishop of the area and he told us that we would have to take responsibility for the boys ourselves, which could lead to horrible consequences if anything went wrong. We were stuck.

Then Lameck had what's called as a 'sickle cell crisis'. I wasn't there, but apparently it was awful, he had been in so much pain he was barely conscious. The team rushed him to hospital and the government eventually gave in and allowed him to have a blood transfusion. We had spent that night praying that he would survive. 

The relief we had felt the next time we saw him had been almost tangible! He was fine! We rounded the corner of their small village with our hearts in our mouths and came across him and his brother making flags from bamboo and cloth. 

Lameck and Charles with their flags!

I have many other memories of Lameck - him giving Gaby and I two segments of orange and laughing as we spat them out. Him giving Abbie and me two eggs as a thank you for our help - something that must have been so precious to them. Him asking 'picture?' and 'puto'? (balloon) almost constantly.

A week ago we were told that Lameck had passed away.

 It doesn't seem quite real that a boy who is so alive in my memory can be gone. He is still there in my head, walking along that grassy path towards me, him with the gloves on, and abbie's sunglasses oversized on his head. I don't think I realised how attached I had become to that little boy who seemed to need us so much. He lived such a strange and different life to me, so poverty stricken, how is it fair that just because he lives in a rural corner of Tanzania that he doesn't even reach the age of 8? 

I know that God put us in the last few months of Lameck's life for a reason. We enabled him to have a blood transfusion, to enjoy living, to play games with him...So this is a blog post in memory of brave, serious, little Lameck - someone who brought home the impact of poverty with sickening reality.

There are so many other children out there who are just as helpless as Lameck, so so many who suffer from poverty and illness. It just so happens that his life and mine brushed each other for a while.

Lameck and Charles and me.

Tanzania tales...... An 'ode' to Jackson.

I really don't know where to begin. And I haven't written anything for many, many weeks, so bear with me.
This blog has been neglected for a fair few months now (I apologise, thank you for not abandoning us in our absence). And as I scrolled down the pages I realised nothing has been said since we split our different ways and Abbie, Kate, Gina and I vanished off to Tanzania.
Which is criminal.
Because Tanzania really was all I COULD talk about for many months. And even now a day doesn't go by where I'm not wondering about them back there, daydreaming of the hot dusty villages and the wooden house we lived in; Eagle Lodge.

We went out with good intentions. We went out nervous. Excited. Unaware. 'Gap Years' are so traditional and cliche these days, and yet the experience is anything but. I loved that every day was different. That each morning I could wake up not knowing what would happen, knowing nothing would be the same.
No, I lie.
There were some stable people and events in our day to day life. Let me introduce you to Jackson.

"Jacki-boy"

He was our Translator (no one there spoke English, only Swahili) and Driver. At the beginning, I'm not sure why, perhaps I was intimidated, he passed me by. I saw him as a cheery, distant fellow who like to wear red. But as the days would fly by and we would spend many a time squeezed in the front of the red truck with him, or waiting in the Coptic hospital together, we came to realise he is one of the best human beings on the planet.
He had, for one, an easy sense of humour and found the most bizarre things funny.
He confessed that he and Freddie (the Driver/Translator for the other team) had thought Gina and I, being twins, were actually one person. He told me, with a beaming smile, how they had rung each other up-
Jackson: "She's with me, at the church"
Freddie: "No, no she is here, in Mkyringo!"

That set me laughing for a long time.

He was open and honest; never shy of saying how he felt about the situation in his country, in the villages, or even us. He had an innate urge to help you, always there to lend a hand be it with hammering, or checking if you are okay when you have been ill. This easygoing, genuine innocence and yet so worldly a wisdom earnt him the respect and love of the whole team- many a journey we would be singing; "we love you Jackson, we do, we love you Jackson, we do!"

A child's 'flap happy' hat he adored so much!

He said many times he would love to go to England, asking what it was like to fly in a plane- I didn't have the heart to tell him, or want to tell him, that living the 'western life' would probably kill all the hope in Jackson. Is it wrong I was secretly glad he would never come to England? To protect that in him?

Because Jackson had an innate prompting to protect us. Especially us as girls, he had to defend us from more than one 'suitor' or drunk on the streets of Musoma. And yet it more the emotional harm he feared we would come to, that he seemed most eager to prevent. One of my favourite memories of Jackson, is when Kate and I were upset, taking a man, Kitara, in our village to a physiotherapist. On seeing our miserable faces Jackson left for a few minutes, then came back in. He beckoned to us to come outside. "I have a surprise, just come, just come." We quietly slipped off the table where we were perched and followed him round the back and outside of the treatment room. We squinted in the sun and tried to make out what he was walking towards. Then we both laughed. It was a playground filled with rough swings, a wooden seesaw and a roundabout. Jackson was trying to cheer us up. I'll never forget the air swinging by, the green and blue background all a blur with the slight and sudden hint of red.

A house in our village.

He also had an incredible strength of self. He knew, and wanted us to know, the 'real Africa'. He would try to explain with words, and failing that, we once disappeared into the Tanzanian landscape. We were down at the bottom of our village, the team leaders at the top, and were filled with an urge to go exploring. Jackson seemed only to glad to steal us away- Kate, myself and Andy. We abandoned the path and went sprinting for a long way through the bristling Tanzanian fields, following Jackson as he ran knife in hand. We reached a pile of vast, large rocks- eerily circular- and began to climb our way up to get the full impact of the fading view. Just that brief memory of freedom brings a smile to my face.

The day we went exploring...

So this is Jackson. He is an expert at knowing which trees have snakes in, exactly how to barter with a policeman, how to eat Sugar Cane and how to cheer someone up. He is very protective about the little hair he has, is an incredible teacher in the schools, has a limited taste in card games, and knows TEN national languages as well as English. He likes to wear red, has a chicken called Jasmine, and believes in what he does. That's Jackson.

But I need to stop.
I could go on in detail not just about Jackson but about all manner of things Tanzania related. Maybe I'll do it this way. In anecdote form. Because I could write a NOVEL about the experiences we had in Tanzania and the people we met, the children we played with and the Church we built. Anyway. This is an 'ode' to Jackson, so that no one forgets what an incredible person God put in our path.

The Church Team

The Potter's Hands - Abbie

My gap year, where do I begin? It has certainly been a rollercoaster experience, many highs and many lows, but undoubtedly all crafted by God who is shaping my life so that I can trust more in him which is always always positive.

First of, the whole concept of a gap year was really difficult to deal with. I loved my time at school and I felt really bereft and empty knowing that I wasn't going back. I also love knowing what to expect, I like routiene, and without it I felt sort of lost. But then things started to look up, I got a job, working at a baguette shop, and my expectations were positive, I thought it would be great, oh how wrong can a person be? I dont really know what I was expecting... but I wasn't expecting
the boredom
the oppressing atmosphere
the intimidating boss
the feeling of incredible smallness.
But depsite these things I kept going, I reminded myself that I wasn't suffering, it just wasn't pleasant, but it was where God wanted me. Three weeks past and I got a text, one small text on a Sunday morning. I was in Church, the sermon had finished and I glanced at my phone and saw a message which told me that business had been bad, so I wasn't to come back on Monday.

And that was it, bye-bye job! I felt a mixture of things, and I would be lying if sadness was one of them, I definitely was not sad to see that job go! I was anxious though, that niggling voice in the back of my mind wondering, would God provide for me? And relief, boy did I feel that emotion!

I didn't get a job straight away and there was a horrid empasse period where the niggling voice reigned. But God provided companionship for me as many of my friends were going through a similar thing and we really helped one another, bearing with the rejection of another dismissed CV after another. Sure enough another job turned up, at the school kitchens.

Not a dream job, but again companionship saw me through as I was working alongside friends, and it didn't last long. I got a job at 'Sally Lunn's' in Bath. I was to become a cook. I was incredibly shocked when they offered me the job, I had no experience (expect for an amateur love of cooking), and here was one of the most famous restaurants in Bath wanting me to be their cook! Man! I took it, got trained up and put in the most stressful position of my life: as a sole cook in a kitchen trying to provide for a whole floor of customers! It was not so much the actual preparation of food which was difficult but the volume of it, I am still haunted by the sound of the receit machine, telling me another order was waiting to be served. As they pilled up, so did the pressure, and waiters would come saying 'Where's table number 4? They're still waiting!' At times I wanted to break into a sob and run out saying that I couldn't cope. I tasted my breaking-point and God saw me through.

Sure enough I didn't last long there, why? I guess you could put it down to inspiration, inspiration that I believe came directly from God. It was literally before I went to sleep I had the sudden though of nannying! I adore children, and the prospect of looking after a kid filled me with painful hope. But after some great advice from a future-sister-in-law I found myself a job, with an incredibly lovely South African family looking after their 9 month son, Ethan. Words cannot describe how much God has touched my life through that job, the relationship that's built between Ethan and I is so precious, and although I know he won't remember me, the joy which floods me when he laughs when he sees me in the morning, or thrusts his tiny palms sky-ward in a desire to picked up is simply priceless!

So what's next. Tanzania , to a charity run by Tearfund working with those in the village of Musoma, teaching kids and building water containers. Am I scared? Terrified! Remember, I don't like the unknown! I love home and my family and thinking of leaving them for 3 months is hard. But my desire to be pushed out of my comfort zone and to help those in poverty and to be completely changed by God, well that's greater. Am I excited? Hell yes!

Sorry this blogs been so long, and so... story-like! I will be very impressed if anyone read to the end!!

twenty twelve

I think a photo montage is a good way to summarise this past year and resurface all those old memories that make you smile a little. Why not stir the emotions a bit? It's the end of something brilliant. And I think a celebration is in order:

 

Gina x

Christmas is Happening!

My sister and her friends every year create an online advent calendar containing all things creative and wonderful to share their love of Jesus at Christmas time. This year, I had the opportunity of doing a piece of artwork for it - and today, the 21st December, it features!

Click on the link below and then number 21 and have a peek:
christmasishappening.com

Have a listen to today's song too!

Much love and MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!
Sarah
x

The Potter's Hands - Sarah

I think it's time for me to share with you what has been going on for the last three months. My only excuse for this enormous time delay is.... well, business and fulness of life! You will see what I mean in a second :)!

This time last year, I was applying deferred entry to uni. I knew I wanted to go to uni. I also knew I wanted a gap year - I always had done since my brother and sister went here there and everywhere on theirs, bringing back spiritual treasure with them each time. But I wanted to know what God's will for my gap year was. It was a time of doubt for me - am I even meant to be doing this, is this just my selfish human nature, I want to know God's heartbeat especially for this opportunity ... how do I find it? He spoke to me and confirmed my want to do Modern Languages next year. And the sense that I, and others kept coming back to was that God was saying "what do you want to do on your gap year?" It was like He was giving me the liberty and gift of this year. He was asking me to co-partner with Him. This is a really Biblical idea, and if I'm honest, I struggled to accept it. I just wanted God to give a sign out of the sky with an arrow saying GO HERE. But that didn't happen.
           What did happen was that I started to depend on Him more and more. That is one of the most valuable things! It was hard but looking back now, I wouldn't change that experience - I can see all that God was preparing me for. One day, my art teacher randomly suggested that I do an art foundation course. I wasn't totally sure, and if I'm really honest, I wanted to go off on some amazing exotic adventure rather than stay in England and study art.

I decided I'd apply and see if I got in because it is really competitive. When I visited the college, I loved it. I could really see myself fitting in. I had my interview and got a place, and I had this unexplainable ridiculous JOY. Whilst on the campus tour, I had an overwhelming sense of peace that just convicted me that this place was where I needed to be for my gap year. The Spirit of the Lord was moving in my heart.

I was really excited all summer leading up to it. And then 2 weeks before leaving home, a lot of "flaming arrows from the evil one" - I had allowed my "shield of faith" (Ephesians 6:16) to drop for that moment in time. But what this did mean was that I had to consciously choose to trust in God with every small ounce of strength in my body. If I didn't, I couldn't cope.
On the way down in the car with mum, we prayed and declared scripture all the way. We asked for someone nice to meet when I got there. We asked for things to keep my mind off home in the first week. We asked for Godly strength.

This song holds a lot of significance for me. It got me through the tough time of leaving home, leaving my safe childhood stepping out into an adventure with my Lord and Saviour. I didn't want to do it without Him! It is based on Psalm 18, have a listen!

God provided everything - every.single.thing that I needed. There was someone lovely that I met as soon as I got here. The first week was busy and I didn't miss home too much. The art course is amazing. Jesus is teaching me how to release His presence through art. The place is INSANE. I get to live by the sea!!! God just knows my heart so well - everything is so chilled; no one ever wears heels on a night out - I love that! Beautiful inspiration is all around me. He has planted me so well in places that hold no coincidence. I have been able to witness so much to my friends. God has blessed me with a church that just wants to know the Father's heart.

And it's true, there are hard things: - It is not always easy being away from home. And I have had to step out of my comfort zone a lot. But I'm not so fearful of doing that now. God is shaping me in radical ways, in ways that only He can do. I wouldn't change that for anything. And whilst part of me still wishes I got to go travel, I know that deep deep in my heart, I am in the right place for this year. No hardship that I encounter can ever take away from the all-surpassing greatness of knowing Him! I do have a long summer holidays, so am praying about what to do with them :)! Please join me in praying.

So I'll leave you with a word of encouragement and advice for you all -
This experience has made me realise that I just don't want to go anywhere that God is not calling me to be. Sometimes you have to look really hard to find what that may be, but believe me, it is such an important thing. "Keep on seeking, and you will find" Matthew 7:7.

He is shaping me in His potter's hands. And I believe that I really am just a jar of clay made to shine with the Lord's glorious treasure. (2 Corinthians 4:7)
With love,
Sarah xx

A very special anniversary

Ok... so I'm guessing most people at the Tea House went along their normal routines last Friday without any recollection as to what significance that day held....


How about I give you a clue....



.....It was the 9th of November....

...still not getting it?!?


The 9th of November!

Okay, if you haven't got it by now I'm appalled!!! It was the day we went to see the best band EVER!!! It was the day we went to see Switchfoot, our heroes, perform live at Birmingham!!!

So to commemorate that oh-so-special day, I thought I would do a post on all the wonderful snippets of memories that evening has imprinted into my mind, warning this blog may turn into a stream of consciousness as I relive the thing, please bear-with!!!

Excitement and adrenaline pulsating through our veins as we rush to school, knowing that TODAY IS THE DAY. Hysterical laughter at lunch accompanied by a sense of disbelief and jittery glee at the thought of what's to come. A coach journey filled with singing and frantic gasps of 'only an hour to go!!!!'

 Standing in the dark, a line full of dedicated fans, soaking in the electrifying atmosphere. Being shepherded into the arena, seeing the very stage that they will play on, clinging on to the desperation for a good view as we worm our way through the crowds.

The painful experience of the warm up band, longing for the real-deal! Hearts beating faster, screams pierce the air, emotions rising higher and higher and higher, until THEY COME ON! And is this even happening? The ecstasy of hearing the opening chords of 'Mess of Me' and the lights fall on Jon's face as he begins to sing.

We're singing, screaming, laughing all at once, suddenly the depth of the lyrics and the beauty of the music pierce me like never before, I am aware of so many things, but above all the blessings of a mighty God who lavishes his grace upon his undeserving children.

Wisdom pours from Jon's mouth as he explains that 'Hope is a pregnancy of sorts.' Whilst the introduction of 'Dark Horses' give me goose bumps and the bridge of 'Thrive' brings tears to my eyes, the feeling of unity is mindblowing as the crowd all whisper 'like make believe' in 'War Inside'. The rush of emotion as I realise Jon himself just pointed at my banner! The spine-tingling drum beats at the end of 'Where I Belong'. Then finally it's over. It can't be over. But it really is. There is a bittersweet feeling of longing for more mingled with the contentment of have a treasure chest full of memories.


I'm so sorry if you have never heard of Switchfoot, and you feel that reading this post has been a waste of your time, but please, give them a listen!!!!

We stepped outside of ordinary...

It was early evening on a Friday and we hadn't seen each other in a while... so we decided to bake cupcakes. This alone isn't unusual for us, but then we got around to discussing flavours- and what happened next left us with 8 styles of INCREDIBLE cakes that taste as good as they look....

A vanilla cupcake that while rather convincingly appears to be a scone, is actually a Victoria Sponge thanks to the delicious strawberry jam and butter icing centre. We marked them out of ten, and this was definitly an 8/10.

 

 

A soft and gooey banna and chocoloate chip extravaganza! To top this one off we glazed bannana slices in honey, butter, sugar and cinamon- and there they lie, beneah a showering of icing sugar. It is indeed brilliant. And deserved a 9-10/10.

 

 

A centre errupting with icing and sprinkles, this was a clever mix of cool chocolate and flaming chilli, (otherwise known as- the Volcano) and is garunteed to leave you breathless! For better or for worse... we awarded this one a lowly 6/10.

 

Introducing: Clem. A dark-chocolate and orange cupcake, that is enthused with clementine zest and melted bournville. We cut out the middle, filled the gap with chocolate icing, and then placed the remaining cake back on top for a squeezed, butterfly effect. The chocolate drop finished it off perfectly.  8/10

 

 

 

 

There once was a lemony from snicket

(a town on the edge of mt rickett)

who loved to bake

and made one hell of cake,

so enjoy the tang as you lick it! 8/10

This is our most politically correct cake. It was Kate's handiwork especially, as she artfully entwinted vanilla mixture with chocolate, using nothing but a broken candle. Don't let that put you off, it tasted sweet and was full of variety- but it crumbled under the competition. 7/10

Immagine, if you will, Maggie Smith. Warm hearted, fluffy haired and with  spicy attitude. Seeing as this combination worked so well in Downton Abbey, we resurrected it as a Cake, exchanging personality for ingredients. To finish, we drizzled honey on top, which completely INTENTIONALLY came out in the shape of a rose. As such, this was one of our best on all accounts (despite Gina being extra generous with the mixed herbs): 9/10

 

Walnut and Coffee proved to be a wonderful combination. With a 'mocca' esque base, and grounded nuts, it tasted deep and strong when it emerged out of the oven, and was topped with coffee icing and a walnut crown. Again, a darn cood cake. 9/10
 

This twisted, malformed, misunderstood and patched up cake was engineered to bring the joys of all our cakes together! In short: it's half one flavour, half another, so you can have a mouthful of both without creating crumbs. It has to be: 10/10
 

Which is your favorite of the bunch? Please have your say because the winning cakes will be sold at our church, to raise money for our Tanzania trip in January (yes, we are actually going! And are very physced about it.)

Have you made any great cakes recently? Any new ideas, extravanganzas and yummy recipes to share? Please do add to the flavour of this blog! :)

 

Lots of Love,
 

Milla, Kate, Gina and Abbie.