Sunday-Kristin

Sunday, Oct 25^th, 2014

We need to leave by 8:00 a.m., so M and I shower and dress quickly after sleeping in until 6:30.  Sam and Mariah will be staying home from church again this week to get over their upper-respiratory illnesses. I roll my hair up—just too hot to wear down.  Breakfast is eggs, rolls and Milo—hot chocolate.  Delicious, filling and probably fattening.

We drive 20 minutes to the small converted home that is our branch.  I practice the songs that will be in the service at the small keyboard; many people hum along.  As is tradition, the congregation sings the prelude together about 15 minutes before the meeting begins.

The congregation is small today.  Of late we have been overflowing.  Today many seats are empty.  We have an important visitor, though—an Area Authority Seventy, Elder Vincent.  We sing, and the congregation sings with great emotion; my little keyboard is clearly underpowered.  “How great thou art, how great thou art…”  I tear up during the final verse.

We hear three speakers:  the Relief Society President telling about yesterday’s stake RS “Exhibition,” and a beautiful talk about marriage, and Brother Vincent. He shares with us that we need to talk more about, and focus more on the atonement.  Also emphasizes the importance of self-reliance.  I lean back in my seat by the window and can faintly hear other congregations singing in the distance and baby chicks peeping in the yard next door.  The power stays on and the fans are appreciated.  I scratch my head:  clearly the home lice-killing remedy is missing some targets.

In Primary the nursery children play on mats in the center of the room.  Other young children get up and down to join them.  I invite my grandchildren to sit with me by the piano.  This keeps them seated, at least, and I love being with them.  We have a beautiful lesson on Christ being our Savior.  It is given by a young man (father?) with a face full of testimony.  The children play, but the Spirit is there.  We sing some songs, then have Sharing Time.  While the children color, I play songs.  Some they hum, many they don’t know.  Interesting.  When some children finish early, inevitably they want to play the keyboard.  I turn it off, allowing them to finger silently, then, at the end, turn it on and give them a chance.  As a special treat, the Primary president passes out small chocolate bars to a waiting audience.  I devour mine—a tiny Milky Way and a local bar wrapped in cellophane with a gold paper stripe. Mmmm.

I give a short piano lesson to a beginner and a more advanced learner—he practices hymns slowly as we leave.  At home, lunch is ready:  thick slices of steamed yam (very like yellow potatoes, only slightly sweeter and drier) with fish stew and a boiled egg for each of us.  The stew is spicy, with flaked white fish, and the yams are especially good with a little margarine. 

I nap until dinner—I’m fighting my own cold—and we are treated with spaghetti and sauce with hot sausage meatballs.  Everything is delicious and very spicy.  I help Mariah and Sam take the dishes to the outside sinks to be washed.

Something is different tonight, though.  The heavy rains last night have brought what Emmanuel tells us is a Nigerian delicacy—a thick swarm of flying insects like large ants that are attracted to light.  Our well-lit sink area, with its close walls is apparently attractive, and insects are in all the sinks and all over the walls.  I wash a sink clean and begin rinsing dishes.  But the bugs are continuing to fly around, hitting and landing on me and the dishes often.  I persist, but the children are completely unnerved, standing outside the light, ready to flee.  I hang onto my composure enough to rinse everything, but my hair becomes damp as I brush off the unwelcome insects again and again. Finally we all flee; we’ll have to wash dishes in the morning light.  I wonder how long this will be a problem. 

After Family Night I treat for lice yet again, and comb out a spectacular living specimen.  It is huge (1/8 inch, maybe) and picture-perfect:  light brown and almost transparent.  I am horrified and try to kill it under the tissue with my fingernail.  It remains unscathed.  I flush it down the toilet and know I’ll probably  spend much of the night imagining every itch to be from more of these loathsome creatures.  Online I find a new treatment.  I’ll try it tomorrow.

The bedroom fan is working and the night is humming with insect music.  Goodnight, Africa.