That which is lost has been found

8 30 AM .

It is Chaos.  The call comes for those passengers with numbers  from 1 to 24 to go to doors. Of course there is a rush for the doors and a complete jam. I wonder if we will get there at all.  Two buses are waiting outside we clamber aboard.  Eventually we all get on the bus after pushing and shoving then drive out to the plane. A woman loaded with a huge heavy case tries to struggle up the stairs while we all wait.

Eventually a man helps her and I gradually mount the steps and sigh as I locate my seat and look out onto the tarmac. We took off and I had a cup of coffee then tried to doze until we reached Chennai. The Lord drew near and I had a wonderful blessing.  I know all will be well tonight. The plane is descending and I look at the lights of Chennai dropping suddenly to land on a wet runway in a humid temperature of 31 degrees

Alighting in the luxury of warm air, I clambered aboard another coach to the terminal building. After having my passport stamped without any fuss I waited in the baggage reclaim which I noticed had improved somewhat since my last visit.

There were two carousals in operation, which meant going backward and forward to each, peering to see if my case was there. There were the usual huge crates and bundles of luggage of all shapes and sizes, the bigger ones getting jammed on the conveyor belt but no sign of my case. I was getting concerned. I was just beginning to wonder what I would do without it, without a change of clothes, when suddenly it appeared. With heartfelt relief I breathed a “Praise the Lord” grabbed it and went out through the exit to meet the huge crowd gathered waiting for folk’s.

It makes you feel very important with so many folk’s looking. Refusing all taxi offers and helps from porters I made my way the 200 meters to the domestic airport to find a seat to rest on.  I checked at a money exchange and was horrified to find the exchange rate was R48 to the pound, what dreadful robbery. I have taken a photo in Chennai and now in the domestic flights lounge. It is very run down. My head is woozy as waves of tiredness sweep over me. I try resting my head on the case, like the kitchen table but it was no good., then I try lying back in the seat, still no good I groan    five more hours to wait

The time drags on and on. At 10 30 AM. I enquired at the desk no another hour before the desk opens, I return to sit again. At 11 30AM I check my case and go upstairs to the departure lounge. It is empty and I am told by the guards to sit down and wait. I am tired of sitting down, I’m tired of waiting. The time drags, slowly others join they and me too are told to wait. Several idle soldiers come and go slowly, very slowly as if devoid of any energy.. Then we are allowed to go in to be searched. They are very thorough and I almost have to strip undoing my trousers to show my money belt has a zip which has caused his bleeper to bleep.  Once more we sit waiting. I go to the washroom and try to freshen up.

The plane my third is very quick hardly have we ascended when we are descending and I can see the rice fields and buildings of Bangalore. At the baggage claim I wait for my case. I can see people watching me through the open doorway. Foolishly I wave. No one waves back. The sunlight hit my eyes as I leave the building and meet the usual clamor of demanding taxi drivers touting for business and others seeking a buck. A ferocious police sergeant with a big stick drives away some unwanted tricksters.  Some still get through and I tell them rather smugly that “I have someone to meet me”. Sadly as I wait it dawns on me that this is not true. I scan the remaining placards for “Tony Daly”, but there is no sign of it.  I wait.  “Lord what to do I pray”. I realize that I have no rupees, that I have only the address of Pastor Jackson. I search through my pockets to find the address.  A friendly taxi touts hovers nearby. I tell him of my predicament. “Could he take me to this address? I only have English money? Yes. How much I enquired? “I have a meter he replies. I hesitate. “Could you take me to where I can change some money?  Yes but the bank is shut at the moment”.

Then after a little discussion with an airport guard I am allowed back into the airport and shown the way to a money changers booth. The rate is R67 to the pound. Wonderful! So I change £100. Now returning to the exit I am led to a beaten up old taxi and my case is loaded into the boot. As we meander through the traffic I realize I cannot see a meter. “Where is the Meter I ask” The taxi driver hunts under  the dash, producing a booklet with destinations. I find Ulsoor and note that it says R300. I work this out at £3/4  so it is not too expensive.. After a while we come to a stop. We are lost. The driver gets out to ask the way. There is a lot of pointing and gesticulating. One man says this another that.  When all is finished another one joins in and off we go again, more gesticulatin

The taxi driver returns we start to drive across the road. Now is the time to pay he states. We turn into a compound and stop. I look amazed for there is a building with a Christian meeting-taking place. The taxi driver turns and says R 650.   I am not shocked I say, “No way, I will call the police. You said R300 and R 300 is what you will get”. I realize that my smallest note is R500 so I get out to ask someone for change but look back fearing the taxi will go off with my luggage.

Three young men are waiting at the entrance and I ask one for change. I pay off the taxi and write a note to Pastor Jackson, “Tony Daly.   I have just arrived”, I give this to one of the young men to take to the Pastor and off he goes.  I take the opportunity to look around.

Family meeting

The meeting place is large perhaps holding two thousand or more souls. I am on the platform sitting looking at the crowd a German brother Alexander is peaking. He seems to be struggling with his message.  Then suddenly Pastor Jackson is introducing me and I stand at the pulpit to deliver my message. The Lord gives me liberty and love to proclaim the Gospel my translator is good and the Word goes forth with power and love. Praise God.