But first things first, I’ll go back to our arrival in a hot and sweaty Ivory Coast. We had left England in a cold and snowy January, and after a very long flight trying to keep three very hyper and exhausted kids entertained, we arrived in Abidjan and alighted from the jumbo jet. I clearly remember being assaulted by the overpoweringly hot air, feeling as if I was choking as I gasped desperately for breath. I knew immediately there was no way I could live here, and almost turned back into the plane. I also knew, however, that God definitely wanted us to be here, so I reckoned He would help me to learn to breathe, even in this unbearably boiling oven.
We had dressed the kids in shorts and tops, with tracksuits over these. As they raced across the tarmac, they were so hot that they shed the tracksuits along the way. We entered the terminal building to find the air conditioning was broken and there were huge queues at customs. Just as our hearts were sinking an angel appeared in the form of Ian Crowe, the WEC coordinator. He whisked us through customs and took us to his home, where he produced chilled glasses of lemonade which tasted like nectar. We had finally made it to Africa, and despite the heat and humidity and the utter exhaustion, I don’t think we had ever felt so happy.
