Croc food

We had Elder and Sister Hall from Beira with us over the last weekend--coming up to the North country, where they have never been, to teach us better bookkeeping than we would do if left to our own devices.  They had heard from young missionaries that we have some crocodiles about, so they petitioned to be included in the fun of feeding them.

Threes crocodiles (there are about six or seven of them)  live in a large concrete pit on what was once, an enormous coconut plantation.  The pit is conveniently located just behind the large main house (perhaps easier to threat disobedient children's or staff that way).  We are told by the caretaker sthat they are not fed--and in truth, they do look at the young missionaries in amazement for wasting perfectly good chickens on them.

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Here we have all of the young missionaries with Elder and Sister Hall, peering into the abyss.  And what do they see?

It's actually a pretty large crocodile that you really would not want to be caught alone somewhere between twelve and fifteen feet

Readers of this blog will know that we have been involved in a well construction project in a very very remote locale--the Island of Idugo.  We have had to ship sand, gravel, and cement by truck to the shore and then haul it to the island in boats and then to the well sites in a small hand cart.  We recently purchased a ton of gravel and left it on the river shore overnight for a transport to the island the next day.  In the night, there was a storm, and the entire landing area eroded and washed away--about100 feet deep of coastline--which included our gravel pile. 

This is the new eroded shoreline which lacks the long gentle slope to the river.  As I drove out to the river today (carrying with me in my small truck, twenty two sacks of cement weighing just over a ton) I nearly drove over this little erosion-created cliff.

At the river''s edge, I was informed by my friend Amizade that he may possibly have offered a ride back to the city to a few of his friends who needed to get there to work their Machambas (or small family farm plots).  By my count, we had about 14 in the car with tools and supplies--I believe that was something of a record. 

This is generally how I spend my time in Sunday School (it's me on the right with the name tag).