Worker bees?

After breakfast, we had a meeting to discuss jobs that needed doing around the camp. We had been slightly frustrated that the logs needed to start work on the playground hadn’t arrived, but it soon transpired that there were plenty of other odd jobs needing doing around the camp. Some set about nut cracking, others volunteered to paint the walls surrounding the swimming pool, others to hang some lights outside the chapel. I opted to head down to the front gates and give them a lick of paint. This suited me as I was still fairly zonked and wasn’t really up to full and flowing conversation.

After gathering the required paint, a roller and a brush or two, I headed off to the front entrance and merrily painted until the hooter sounded lunch. It was taking longer than I expected to get things done (I’d probably only got about 20 percent through the job in the hour), but I happily returned to base.

Several OMS International missionaries were coming to the campsite for lunch that day. We firstly had a time of prayer and worship in the chapel before having lunch together down in the dining hall.

The missionaries had mostly all left and I was chatting to Sylv and Amy after lunch (well, more Sylv than Amy…), bemoaning my constant lethargy, when there was screaming from over by the bedrooms. Rosie and Mary came racing across the grass, beating at their heads and in some distress. They were being attacked by bees and, it is fair to say, weren’t overly happy about it. Some of the guys raced down to help swot the bees and, after wondering how I could help, I decided to head to my room to get my first aid kit, which had some anti-sting stuff in it. I got about half way across the grass when I too met the bees. Thinking that they wouldn’t sting me if I didn’t annoy them, I tried to continue walking. Unfortunately, what we didn’t know at that stage was that the bees were on the rampage after the caretaker had tried to strim the grass near to their hive. Once I had been stung on my arm and on the end of my hooter, I understood why the ladies had been running so fast. Darn, but they hurt! I quickly beat a retreat, suggesting to Sylv and Amy on the way past that they head up the hill and away from the accommodation blocks (which seemed to be where all the bees were (they actually lived in a corner of the Scott’s house)). I raced back to the dining hall and removed the stings from my nose and arm. I met the caretaker in the toilets - he having dived into the shower fully clothed to try to get rid of the bees! Once I was clear of bees, I headed back up the hill to work out were Sylv and Amy had ended up. I found them sheltering in the chapel. Although not condoning killing in places of Christian worship, one church-going bee did make its maker that afternoon. Meanwhile, back in the dining hall, some fly spray and several liberally applied buckets of water were used to rid the ladies of the bees and the long, difficult process of extracting the stings from their scalps (for they had been stung about the head a lot) was under way. Once things had settled down sufficiently, we all gathered together in the dining hall. After a cup of tea and some sweets, we had a time of prayer. Many were in shock, many felt far from home and the feeling of safety that the camp had instilled suddenly felt shaky, but God was there. I think everyone appreciated the power of prayer at that time. Looking back at it, we were blessed that although many of us were stung, neither the member of the group with the majority of the allergies (who has never tested himself with a bee sting) and the 18 month old child both missed being stung.

After a period of time to allow us to recover, we returned to our work. Alistair came down to the front gate with me and helped me make substantial progress during the rest of the afternoon such that we had half the job finished before dinner.

After dinner, we had our time of devotions, supper and then to bed.