The 'halleluiah' people

by Bernard Ebiau (Uganda)

A leap into the unknown Great Britain

I forget my diary on the telephone booth, causing a journey meant for 5 hours from London to Cumbria, to become a 30 hour trip. I sweat, not because of heat, but the hundreds of addresses and telephone contacts I’ve lost. I must leave London, now! I decide. Lest the police find me idle and disorderly, and I end up being deported. I try to recollect the address of an old missionary friend based in Liverpool, but can only remember L14! The people are freely kissing, while, most adverts are sexy! Something uncommon back home. Yet, the beautiful trees aren’t just blossoming, but are emitting nice aroma. I go to the Victoria Railway Station for the last train to Liverpool. But, although we’re a multitude, am taken note of! “You’re welcome sir,” a soft spoken man says. “Can I have a look at your travel documents, please?” I look at the inscription on his shirt, I realise he’s a security officer. “Yes sir.” I say, as I hand him my passport. “But you are late for the conference, what happened?” “I missed a plane sir.” I say, receiving back the passport. I see a magazine entitled, “Men Only.” I buy a copy. By 11:00 am, I leave London for Liverpool by train, to look for my old missionary friend, whose address I can’t even remember! I look through the louvers. I see modern farms, horses and the hay farmers keep for winter. Like Mr. Bean, I pretend to be as comfortable as the others. People here don’t make unnecessary noise, I note. While some are endlessly taking coffee, others have eyes glued on their novels. But the youths beside me, have their mouths locked at each other’s throughout the journey. Moreover, the lady’s arm is unzipping the boy’s trousers. Something done in the night back home – under the blanket! Well, I pick a copy of, “Men Only,” that I purchased from the Victoria Railway Station to read. I notice it’s a pornographic paper too! Am I safe? I ask myself. I take a cup of coffee and a pancake, before visiting the lavatory. I’ll hand myself to the police if I don’t meet my missionary friend. I resolve. By 6:00 pm, we reach Liverpool. Cabs are parked, waiting from outside. But one has to know the street and house address they are going to. I am next on the line! “Good evening sir,” I start. Trying to explain my dilemma to the English taxi operator. But he quickly tells me off. “I am not here to help people who don’t even know where they are going!” He says. I step backwards, to allow the ready passengers to continue. An Indian taxi operator approaches me. “How are you my friend?” he starts. “I am fine” I answer. “So, what’s your problem?" “I am going to Liverpool, Merseyside, but have lost my diary. Just trying to remember the house number.” “What number do you remember my friend?” “L14.” I say. “Try to remember the others as we go along,” he says. “But, I only have 13 pounds, sir.” “No problem, we will try two places! What have you come to do in England?” “To attend a Christian conference.” “You mean these ‘halleluiah’ people my friend?” “Yes! Those ‘halleluiah’ people, sir.” I laugh. The Indian taxi operator laughs too! We reach his first guess, and he checks. “It isn’t here my friend, let’s try the second place.” After another drive, he stops the car. The charge meter is already reading 16 pounds. Well, an old man comes out. My Indian friend explains my dilemma. Although I recognise he’s my missionary friend, I remain silent. He gives the taxi driver 16 pounds, who heartily drives away. “Why didn’t you call us before coming, Bernard,” the old missionary asks. “I am sorry Papa, but it’s a long story!” I respond. “I know, and you must be tired and exhausted from the long journey! Come in and have some cold juice to refresh yourself.” “Thank you papa.” He books a ticket for me to the conference. I end up having fun with the ‘halleluiah’ people – at the Keswick Conference – in the beautiful, Lake District of Cumbria.