Missionary Gas

This week a circular was sent out to the Seminary’s employees about the sugar bowl and related matters Colombian’s take their coffee seriously, strong and sweet. There is a communal coffee machine and it appears some rascal has been taking the sugar spoon off to his office, causing a crisis. The Seminary is now in a time of forced austerity: don’t use too many disposable cups and no photocopying of syllabuses. In June it received a ₤40,000 loan from the OMS Missionary Society which would have lasted a couple of weeks. There is now talk of employing a Fund Raiser. The first years are a super bunch; all sit near the front and have loads of questions. The 4th years, more knowledgeable, sit near the back but the questions still keep coming. Financial crisis or not, people want to be taught, and the Seminary cannot shut. Even if you had a blackboard in the middle of a field, people would turn up. There is a sense in which an inter-denominational Sem

As the plane touched down in Medellín, the lady next to me clapped loudly. Unfortunately this was premature for we then bounced down the tarmacadam causing her to genuflect more times than a nun meeting the Pope. As is normal, one of my cases was missing. In the mayhem of airport arrivals, the Señorita wrote down my details in longhand and entered them in a big black ledger. Beside me, a missing-case, jittery, North American, shouted down his cell phone, “I’m in Medellin! And there’s no computers here!”. But they do have people and the following day they took me quickly to a long line of bags, where at the very end was mine. I signed their big black register and left. It was Independence Day yesterday (Tuesday): 200 years ago the Spaniards were ousted. A new book says the commemoration illustrates the shortest Latin American story : “When he awoke, the dinosaur was still there”. In other words, caudillos still dominate, the many are controlled by th