An apple a day ...

It may surprise you to discover that, although I have now been here one month, I have not yet had the need to shop at the fruit n' veg market in true African style. We went there on my first Saturday - 4 weeks ago - and my GAP partner, Tom, and housemate, Jerry, did buy a few tomatoes and onions.

We do most of our purchasing in small shops, where the price is fixed. It struck me as odd at the time that they just paid the price asked in the market.

Eating at Peggy and Steve's as we do in the evening, we get plenty of fruit and vegetable intake. And what with Dagmar leaving us a lot of fruit when she headed south to Namibia and South Africa some weeks ago, we have been doing just fine for our fruity vitamins and minerals. But this week saw the end of that, with chef Tom demanding some apples for a pudding he wants to make tonight.

So, when my piano student did not show up this morning, it seemed the perfect opportunity to head to the fruit market. Having brushed up on a few useful phrases yesterday, I took 40 kwanzas (about 25p) with me, determined to get the best value I could.

Walking through the small metal gate into the market, I am often struck by the full variety of vibrant colour. Fruit-laden ladies, some with small children, sit on the floor with large plastic bowls full of various produce, most calling out to try to get my attention - and my money. I find myself having to watch where I step, so as not to trip over any carelessly-placed legs, or worse, carelessly-placed chickens (live, of course).

I hover near the apples and crouch down to hear what the young girl is saying. It sounds like she is offering 200 kwanzas, but I can't tell how many apples that would buy. I explain that I have 40 kwanzas (probably my first mistake). Cocking her head, she holds up 2 apples. I suggest four. "Não, duas." Disappointed, I shake my head, and walk away, in the vain hope that she might try to coax me back with a better offer. She doesn't. I console myself with the thought that I could probably get better value than that in Waitrose.

As I wander back home, I remember seeing some apples and bananas being sold on the way to Peggy's house yesterday. We have been advised not to buy things by the side of the road, but I cannot resist the urge to try my hand again. I sidle up to the vendor, narrowly avoiding collision with a taxi in the process. It is an older woman and her daughter, deep in conversation. I decide to try turning on the charm...
"Bom dia, senhora. Como está?"
"'Stá bem, o meu filho." (It's good, my son.)

I express my immense pleasure that she is feeling well this morning, and ask how much it is for... why didn't I look up the Portuguese for apples? She smiles and tells me it's 50 for a pile (there are 5 in the pile).

"Dá para fazer por quarenta?" (Can you do it for 40?)

She hesitates, and I explain it's all I have, and would it please be possible to have them for 40. Another hesitation, and then:
"Sim, está possível."
"Muito obrigado, senhora."

The deal is done. I count out my 40 kwanzas and hand them over, before bagging up my pile of five apples. A sense of elation is swelling inside me, as I celebrate what I feel to be my moral victory over the high white-man's prices at the fruit market. As I walk home along the sandy dirt track, it occurs to me that, by Angolan standards, 8 kwanzas an apple is probably quite steep. But for now, that can't put a dent in my high spirits. Everybody I pass is wished a very good morning, and I wonder if they can detect the extra spring in my step. This morning, it would seem, everybody wins.

Update: One or two other missionaries have told me that they struggle to get apples for cheaper than 20 kwanzas each, and were thus mighty impressed with my 8 kwanza deal ...

Let me share with you now some thoughts from my journal from last weekend.

It has been frustrating me recently that I am having less interaction with Angolans than I had hoped to. A substantial proportion of my day seems to be spent at home, or in the company of other missionaries ... neither of these is a bad thing per se, but neither is an ideal way to spend all of one's time here.

And what about these guys that I feel God has put on my heart: how am I meant to come alongside them when I only have a superficial grasp of their language, and many have no grasp of my own? Even if I was able to ask meaningful questions, they would lose me with their answers. And why didn't I take that opportunity to join in the football match with the kids in the street outside? All of the other SIM missionaries in Lubango are away this weekend: how can I make the most of this opportunity to hang out with the guys I am meant to be serving?

It struck me as I was writing words similar to these into my journal, that the answer is obvious. I've simply got to continue relying on God through it all. After all, it's our hearts of worship that matter to him the most; the willingness to give him the glory. It's how I'm being, not what I'm doing, that he values.

When he called me here, he knew I would have these problems, and yet still he called me. Therefore, I trust in him to use me as only he knows best: please pray with me that I would be dependent on him and his guidance, and not impatient over what feels like wasted time. Thank you.

Who am I
That the Lord of all the earth
Should choose to know my name,
Should choose to feel my hurt?
Who am I
That the bright and morning star
Should choose to light the way
For my ever-wandering heart?

Not because of who I am,
But because of what You've done;
Not because of what I've done,
But because of who You are!

I am a flower quickly fading,
Here today and gone tomorrow;
A wave tossed in the ocean;
A vapour in the wind.
Still You hear me when I'm calling;
Lord, You catch me when I'm falling.
And You've told me who I am:
I am Yours.

(c) Lyrics (and Music) Casting Crowns

The day after writing this, some of our Angolan friends invited Tom and me to have a big pizza-making (and eating!) fest with them: a really good time of fun and fellowship, and an answer to prayer.

So please pray with me too that there may be answered prayer for Tom and all his family. Hannah continues to make good progress following her operation; while she recovers she is, however, on some medication to supplement what her body should be producing naturally.

Pray too for the family of Avril (Uruguay) who are facing some challenges related to work.

A number of the GAP students have access to various forms of two-wheeled motorised transport. Please pray for mechanical reliability and safety as they gain experience .