Visiting Africa is a test and a challenge of all of one’s senses. The touch of dusty, callused hands of a rural Ugandan farmer. The cacophony of sounds in downtown Kampala, street hawkers offering their wares, bus drivers leaning on their horns and roaring abuse at other motorists. The raucous, joyful singing of gospel songs in Winterveldt, South Africa. The stench of a garbage bin and a dead dog at the side of a main street in Kampala, the sweet scent of a lemon tree and of the “yesterday, today and tomorrow” blossoms in the gardens of a convent in the suburbs of Johannesburg. The bland taste of the maize porridge called ugali in Uganda, pap in South Africa. The mild, milky chai tea in Tanzania and Uganda. The loud, tinny sound of themuezzin using loudspeakers to call Muslims to pray in Zanzibar and the ever-present crow of roosters nearly everywhere.

In October 2002, Anglican Web manager Leanne Larmondin went on an assignment for the Anglican Journal to Africa. The following stories are her reports of what she found.

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