FACT OR FICTION?

The Rt. Rev. A.A. DAVID, Bishop of Liverpool (centre) 1935

I SEARCHED FOR A PHOTO OF ANY ANGLICAN BISHOP WEARING GAITERS!

I was only able to come up with this one!   And WHY would I want to bring gaiters into this week's Blog.   Just an association of memories really; memories that have their root in my initial entry into Kenya in 1968.
My place of work was in a small centre called MASENO at the time.   It has grown a lot since those days.
But then, in December 1968, it was quite small and perched about 4,000ft above sea level, some 25 kilometres or so from Kisumu, down at the Kavirondo Gulf, the entrance to Lake Victoria.  Maseno had a Teachers College (Siriba College, now a University), a National High School (Maseno School) and a Government Training College for Government Officers.     The rest was part and parcel (with the School and Mission Hospital)of the Anglican Diocese of Maseno North.       I had a small rent free cottage on the compound of the Mission Hospital where I worked as Chaplain, both to the Hospital and also Siriba College.    It was in that small cottage that the first children of Testimony Faith Homes came to live.    It all began there.      It was a very sleepy, almost Olde Worlde scene.     Rural, friendly and peaceful socially.    It reminded me very much of Wiltshire in the 1950s  -   even Cricket matches on the Maseno School field on a Sunday afternoon, band music,  school boys in grey flannels, blazer and straw boater.    Was this really Kenya....?    YES it was, one that was almost entirely gone - a final little remnant of pre-Independence.    It had all gone and changed completely within a year of my arrival.
My neighbours, living just a kilometre away from me were the Venerable and Mrs. Kenneth Stovold.  Ken was Archdeacon to the Diocese of Maseno North.    His wife, Hilda, was Matron to Maseno School.  They were in their late fifties, and we became good friends till they left in the middle Seventies.     Ken was always dressed in the traditional 'apron' and 'gaiters' of Anglican clerical attire - though I had NEVER seen it worn in England in my own lifetime.      It reminded me of Trollop and Barchester Towers!      Just another thing that seemed to add to the heady unreality of the little world I suddenly found myself in.   Even now, looking back, it still has dreamlike feeling about it - but it WAS very real indeed.    But WHERE am I going with all this?

' In November 1970 I suffered an attack (the second since I had arrived in '68, and which now I am convinced was Cerebral Malaria.)
I was standing cooking in the kitchen one lunchtime (I was then single and had 15 boys living with me.     I was no longer living in the Mission Hospital but had moved into a much bigger house about 3 kilometres away into the countryside, down a very rough and often muddy road.)     I had just dropped like a stone onto the floor of the kitchen.   The boys had then carried me, (unconscious) to my bed, and then one of them ran the three kilometres to the Church House in Maseno and told Hilda Stovold, the Archdeacon's wife, that I had died!!
She, poor lady, was quite distraught with no one at home to help her know what to do next.    So, she jumped into her car - a little VW Beetle, and chugged down the mud road to find out for herself!     She was a small, rather anxious, lady of a nervous disposition.     By the time she arrived, an hour or more had gone by, and I was just coming round.   I felt as if I had been drugged, sluggish but awake!
On seeing me Hilda became the more flustered and insisted on taking me back to the Mission Hospital.
It had been raining, and was still continuing, and the already muddy road became a quagmire.   She got stuck halfway back to Maseno, and asked if I would mind getting out to push.   I did so, and we went on a little further.   Then, about a kilometre further on she got a flat tyre!    She had a bad heart, she said.  She was sorry to have to ask me, but could I change the tyre for her!   I did so, and at last we reached the hospital, much wetter and muddier than anticipated.       The young African doctor looked me over and asked how old I was.    "I was 30 this year",  I told him.    "Ah, yes!" he said, wrinkling his brow professionally. "It's pretty certain you are commencing Epilepsy; it often begins about your age."    He then rummaged in a desk drawer and gave me some Phenobarbital tablets, and told me to let him know if I had more 'attacks'.
I was feeling alarmed by this time, and still a little unsteady.     Mrs. Stovold was looking more and more nervous.    It was still raining.    I had no umbrella.
"I  do hope you don't mind...?"  It was the Archdeacon's wife speaking.  I turned toward her.  We were all three still in the doctor's office in the hospital.  "  You see I should be all alone on the return journey if I take you back, I think perhaps I won't risk it.     I am sure you will be alright....won't you?"   She was peering anxiously at me through her spectacles.
I got up and hurried home.   On the way I considered the situation.   If I DID have Epilepsy then I was not a fit person to look after all these boys.    If I did not have Epilepsy then I did not need the tablets!   I took the packet out of my pocket and looked at is as I walked along in the rain.   I emptied the tablets into my hand, and threw them into the next puddle.    Whether I had Epilepsy or not, the Lord only knew, and only He could sort it out.     I never did have another such 'attack'.    Neither have I ever had an attack of Malaria since that day."    (Extracted from my book A Cry From the Street) - By the way if you buy the book you will read on the Title page that 'The contents and people mentioned are all fictitious'.     I can only say that I am personally sure I did not imagine any part of it.   The people, the places, the events are ALL very real, and described first hand.

Esther reminded me last night how truly amazing, if not clearly miraculous, it is that in all the 43 years since this event happened, I have NEVER had Malaria, never had such an 'attack' and never even fainted!  Who IS it that looks after us when we turn to him and trust ourselves into His Hand.   It is JESUS.   Keep HIM in mind.

Beatrice & Joseph Rop

 THIS WEEK HAS SEEN THREE FUNERALS TAKE PLACE, and all of them have touched one family.
First of all Carol's step sister passed away suddenly after a very short chest infection, in hospital.      THEN an UNCLE of Carol's also passed away very quickly - both leaving families to mourn and sorrow.
Finally the 90+ year old Mother of Joseph Rop, husband of Beatrice (another sister of Carol's by the way) also passed peacefully away in her sleep.      Quite a demanding week in respect of having to visit, and comfort the grieving whilst at the same time grieving ourselves.   For Esther and myself, of course, we are also drawn into it since they are all our family 'in-laws'.     Daryl, as Carol's husband, has also been more than busy lending his support and energy into helping arrange and inter-act with at least two of the funerals all of which have taken place this week, with Carol's step sister being buried today in her home.
My Esther has gone with Daryl and Carol today.     I have remained at home mainly because funerals here take almost the entire day - from about 9a.m. to 5 or 6 p.m. and in this particular case it will all be done in Swahili or Kalenjin rather than in English.     Usually so many words of comfort and commendation for the departed one, and choirs and prayers - a true Days Program of Farewell.
BUT Esther is that rare soul that never flags or fails in grace, patience and love.
She is very special, weeping always with those that weep, whilst always having an uplifting and encouraging word, and positive spirit about her.     I feel very much privileged to have found her as my companion and friend these many years. She has needed every one of her many good qualities to put up with me and my many opposite graces.     She is truly an example of 'Saving Grace'.


SO LIFE GOES ON.    It has been wonderfully sunny each day, but also rains nightly.   The children all at home, happy and free of study and school.  The Building works still continuing, and are nearly coming to conclusion.    And KENYA  once more forging forward into what we believe and hope will be a new era of peace and prosperity.
The only particular event of the week past has been the Ceremonial Funeral of Baroness Thatcher - the Iron Lady of England.      Always reminds me also of Bismark the Iron Chancellor of Germany of the last century.
I also watched the Film about her this week.       Most people will  insist I am 'Conservative'.     I am a Christian.      Humanly I am a traditionalist in regard to anything that I feel recommends a Christian England. I enjoyed, therefore the 'cermonial' its glitter, glamour and history.    I enjoyed the grandeur of St. Paul's Cathedral, and the rigour of the liturgical service which stood starkly apart from the representatives of the State and irreligious congregation.      God Save the Queen ......... little remnants of an England I once had a part in, but which seems to be slipping away into a society very different.       When I came to Kenya I felt myself at once an 'alien', and now when I visit England, I feel almost the same.      It has helped me at least to know that THIS WORLD - even the best remembered and loved parts - is not my home.    My REAL home is before me, and I am on the way toward it.     What a DAY that will be.

God Bless you all.    I have written notes to many of you.   Please do remember us and to pray for us at this time especially.
With our love as we walk the week ahead together with you - through thick and thin in JESUS!

John and Esther & Daryl and Carol