Sunday in Mzuzu

 Another Sunday - and another power cut. Thankfully, all the thermos flasks are filled, and there is plenty of water in the buckets to wash and flush - so for most of the day the lack of power will not be an issue, even if it does mean eating our evening meal by candle-light.

Another Sunday - and another preaching engagement. Having been at a Prayer House last week (a fairly recent church plant - in fact Kaningina if where Robert Laws set up for the sort while he was in this area rather than in Livingstonia), I was at Lusangazi this week - originally a Prayer House, this congregation has built their own church and now called their own minister - the family arrived just under a year ago. So this is now a well established community - the only thing missing at the moment is the Manse - and they are well on the way to building that, with the foundations dug and the bricks fired.

However, whatever the size of church, the pattern of the service is much the same - with multiple choirs and long 'intimations'. There were some differences - the minister presided, and made sure the service was largely bi-lingual; and there was a visiting choir from his previous church, come to this church for a choir festival. These are common events. Held in the afternoon, four or five choirs will come together - not for competition, but usually to raise funds for the visiting choir. These funds will be used for transport and to provide the uniform, both expensive items in a land with little or no spare finances.

Overall, we had four choirs in the service - the visiting choir from Enko, the main choir from the church, a quartet and the Sunday School. The singing is lovely, and one occasion Katherine - who is in the house with us - got up and joined in the dancing - to the great joy of the congregation. here was a lovely touch when the visiting choir brought gifts for the minister and his wife - a sign of clear affection for their former minister as he settles in to his new calling.

The service went well, with the sermon translated by one of the teachers from the local church primary school. At first he did not want to take on the job, but he proved very able. After the service the church again provided a meal for the visitors - chicken and beef stews, rice , mixed vegetables - and seema, the local staple crop. Maize seema tastes much like polenta, and is great for mopping up the juice. It was good to be here.

By the time we were back home it was near to dusk, so once more we took out Sunday evening stroll across the marsh to see Joe. Joe is a local who Bob Baxter, one of John Chalis colleagues, met out here a few years ago. He is an odd job man, and among his odd jobs is cobbling - and suddenly Bob knew why a cobbler's last had been sent out in one of the shipments. Joe has also reclaimed some of the marsh, turning it into fish ponds - which provides a steady income, and attracts lots of birds. Talking to Joe and watching the wild fowl is a good way to spend the evening as the sun begins to set - as long as you have applied the DEET before you go. This time the main attraction was the sight of marsh harriers quartering the land to see what they could find.

The power was still off when we went to the Catholic Hostel for our evening meal - the dentists were our hosts for the night - and it was great fun sharing the evening over a candle-lit meal before heading back home to bed.