Make a loud noise!

As usual, the very day I wrote the last blog, everything changed.

Having noted that no-one seemed the slightest bit interested in percussion lessons, I was promptly badgered by all sorts of people who wanted to start. Thus, on Monday afternoon, I sat down with Erlanda, Paulinho, Adriano and Gabi. The first two are the church's young drummers, the others two of the main musicians at the church; they already play everything else (more or less). Gabi says he wants to be able to play the piano like me (he's already a phenomenal guitarist and musician to my mind) ... I think perhaps he hasn't heard of curbing one's enthusiasm! Having said that, he's useful to have around when my Portuguese fails me (often!), as we are able to communicate in French.

There are two secrets to being a good drummer: musicianship and technique. I don't need to teach them about the former (indeed I'm looking forward to learning FROM them!), and so my role is mainly in helping them out with their technique, so they can play the more advanced things they aspire to and help avoid injuries like carpal tunnel syndrome in later life. This, of course, involves individual practice (I feel like quite a hypocrite having neglected this for much of my life, but I am finding the time to do a lot more here!) for which one needs one's own sticks.

The problem was that until Erlanda arrived we had only the one pair of drumsticks - the pair I brought to Angola - between the four of us. I feared that we were going to have to wait a few weeks as I pleaded with folks in the UK to buy a few pairs of 7A nylon-tips and send them over. But hallelujah for local knowledge! Paulinho knows of a place in town where drumsticks are sold (he did tell me where but I am none the wiser) and so hopefully by this Saturday, I'll have a more successful lesson. The older guys can't make it, so I'll be able to focus on Erlanda and Paulinho for a few months, which to my mind is a very good thing.

I also feel that God is putting Erlanda on my heart - please pray for him, as well as for my Portuguese, so I can communicate better with him and others. The guys are all very gracious here, saying that I "falar portugues muito bem" or something along those lines, and I'm glad to have been able to understand Bible studies and so on, but I still have to pull out my blank-faced-foreigner look far too often.

Yesterday was February 21st, the date that has been imprinted upon my memory since January 27th when I met with the dean of students, and discovered that the 21st was to be my first lesson with my new (Intermediate level) class.

Having prepared a few ice-breakers and then planned to hit them with a bit of present perfect grammar (just to scare them a little), I was all ready to go, if feeling a little faint from all the puff I expended blowing up the globe to show them where I'm from (and to help with our "nations and nationalities" vocabulary). I went to the secretary's office and asked for the register. She looked at me as if I were about 99 pennies short of the full pound and explained that the class wasn't to start until the next day - this afternoon. But at least I get the day off from planning today ... watch out for the full report next time.

All of the GAP teams we're in touch with (nothing yet from Helen and Zara and nothing recently from Tim and John) seem to be finding God putting one or two people on their heart - and all are struggling to various degrees with the local language. Pray for all of us that we will find the right thing to say at the right time to the right people, and that our language skills will improve.

Please pray too for Tom and all his family. His sister, Hannah, will be going into hospital for a second operation tomorrow, and faces a possible break from her University studies to help her recovery.