Yesterday we went to the ATM that we had been told about that gives US$. What a difference from the frustrations of the day before! Simple, easy: put in the card, enter my PIN, enter the amount I need, say Yes to the transaction, DONE. And it cost me half as much in fees as it would have done had I been able to get the money at the bank yesterday. Thank You, Father, that the EFTPOS machine didn’t work.
Today it was back to frustration. Bishop Kyaba in the D R Congo had done all the paperwork for my visa, and told me that it had been approved and all I needed to do was to go and pay for it. I had a message this morning asking if I could go today, and I assumed that he had come over and would have all the paperwork with him. But no, when we arrived at the embassy I was met by the young evangelist whom I had met during my frustration about the sim card (seems this guy is destined to see me at my worst. I hope at some point he might get a chance to also see me at my best.) I kept trying to tell him that all the paperwork had been done, the visa had been approved, and I was just there to pay for it, but it seems he was saying I wanted to apply for a visa. The guy there said I couldn’t apply from Burundi unless I had lived here for two years. But I wasn’t applying from Burundi, I was wanting to pay for a visa that had already been applied for and approved from D R Congo. Grrrrrr! I find it so frustrating when I tell someone the same thing over and over again and they just don’t get it. Unfortunately, because I thought Kyaba would be meeting us there with the paperwork, I didn’t bring any paperwork with me. However, we were able to get onto Kyaba through WhatsApp, and he sent the copies of the paperwork. No, they still didn’t get it. As a result I have an appointment with the Ambassador at 10am tomorrow, and have had to write a letter explaining my situation.
The young evangelist took me back to the church office to type the letter, but when I tried I discovered that his laptop has a totally different keyboard. When you are a touch typist and the keys are in the wrong places, it results in some very interesting prose.
I have since been in contact with Kyaba and he has organized for a representative of his church to meet us at the Embassy tomorrow to sort things out. I hope he is there and on time. I gave up. I was stressed out enough, without having to one-finger type on a strange keyboard. I said I would do it tonight at home (which I have, and this gave me the advantage of being able to put it on a ministry letterhead.)
Meanwhile, a thought has occurred to me: the Lord told me before I came on this trip that I would be meeting with government heads during my time in Africa. Maybe this is an open door more than a simple frustration. Hmmmm … tomorrow morning could be interesting.
By the time we finished all this it was after 4, and I had a meeting at 5. Quick change – I would have liked a shower, but there wasn’t time – five deep breaths and a quick “Holy Spirit, You had better take over because I can’t do this”, and the car was here to take me. Turned out the meeting was to start at 5.30, so we were on time. This was more about introducing me to the church, and I had suggested that I share my testimony. They thought this was a good idea, but as they were only allowing me 30 minutes I was going to have to cut it short. I had been praying about what parts the Lord wanted me to share and what He wanted me to leave out.
I had been speaking for maybe five minutes when the power went out, and we continued with loud voices and the light of dozens of cell phones. I couldn’t see either my watch or the clock, so even though I tried to time it correctly I think I ended up going about ten minutes over time. However, they seemed very happy with it and want me back next Sunday.
Meanwhile, at a personal level there has been a rather interesting development. My hair appears to have developed a life and will of its own. Because I am none too confident about finding an African hairdresser who knows how to cut Mzungu hair, it is now around twice the length of time I normally go between haircuts. So it has decided it wants to be curly. All my life I have had reasonably well behaved straight hair, but now I have this unruly, curly mop. The strangest thing is, I think I actually like it.
