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Lansko leto spomladi smo po dolgih mesecih pogovorov in razločevanja kupili 7 kokoši nesnic. Nosilec projekta je kaplan Gregor, ki mu pomagamo, v kolikor potrebuje pomoč. Kakšno veselje je bilo, ko smo po približno 2 tednih v doma izdelanem kokošnjaku našli prvi dve jajci! Odslej jih seveda pobiramo redno in nemalokrat delimo z bližnjimi. Zgodilo pa se je, da je Henrietta v nekem trenutku očitno začela kazati, da bi rada valila. Vsako jutro smo jo namreč našli na jajcih ter jo morali od njih naravnost odganjati. In ne, nimamo petelina. Vsaj zaenkrat. Nakar smo nekega večera izdelali načrt, ki se je zdel tako rekoč nor. Šli smo v bližnjo srednjo veliko prehrambeno trgovino (kot da bi šel v špar) ter kupili paket 6 bio jajc iz proste reje. Označene smo jih vstavili v škatlo, v katero naše kokoši ležejo jajca, ter v velikem pričakovanju opazovali kaj se bo zgodilo. Skladno s svojo tendenco zadnjih dni se je Henrietta usedla nanje in jih začela valiti. Na googlu smo se pozanimali o številu dni valjenja; pisalo je 21. In tako je bilo: na 22. dan po začetku valjenja so se zvalili 3 piščančki. Bil je Markusov rojstni dan. Ne morem reči, da smo bili ravno ganjeni, vsekakor pa smo bili navdušeni. Medtem je imenovana kokoš postala prava koklja z dosti skrbnosti za “svoje” piščančke. To vključuje tudi občasno nenavaden, predvsem pa glasen način kokodakanja. Nekega dne smo imeli na ploščadi pred cerkvijo s prvoobhajanci in njihovimi starši program v sklopu priprav na praznik prvega obhajila. Naša koklja je v tem času vstopila v svojo glasno fazo kokodakanja, ki se je obilno slišalo med zbranim občestvom. Markus je bil prisiljen razložiti, da iz ozadja prihaja glas naše koklje, ki skrbno pazi na svoje mlade. Otroci so jih po sklepu bogoslužja hoteli videti, kar je zadoščalo, da se je glas o župnijskih kokoših in piščančkih raznesel po lepem delu mesta. Dejansko. Tako sem enkrat slišal mimoidoče na pločniku, ki so opazujoč naš vrt govorili, da so nekje tukaj notri župnikove kure. Zaradi bujne žive meje se v naš vrt ne vidi prav dobro. Skratka, dom je seveda lep zaradi mojih bratov duhovnikov, je pa res, da ga kokoši še nekoliko popestrijo.

V Kamerunu smo letošnje leto spremenili način prevoza in smo se odločili, da bom znotraj države med mestoma Douala in Bafoussam potoval z avtobusom. Družba, ki upravlja linijo, zahteva od vseh potnikov, da se v njihovi čakalnici zglasijo 1 uro pred odhodom. Tako sva z mojim lokalnim spremljevalcem Jean-Pierrom čakala in kramljala. Prišla dva do naših župnijskih kokoši, le da sem potožil, da imamo v Evropi težave z lisicami. Vse do te mere, da nikoli ne veš, kdaj bo katera od njih končala kot lisičji plen. Nakar Jean-Pierre dobi preblisk, zaradi katerega je malodane poskočil na sedežu, rekoč: Zakaj lisice vendar ne ujamete in pojete?!

In ko sem v končni fazi dejansko vstopil na avtobus in smo tako rekoč šli na pot, mi je sopotnik z zadovoljstvom potrdil, da smo na VIP prevozu. Nisem ravno razumel kaj hoče povedati; morda to, da smo plačali dosti več kot bi sicer? Ali pa da se za belca nekaj podobnega spodobi? Nakar mi je – verjetno zaradi mojega izraza na obrazu – sam razložil: vsak od nas ima svoj sedež.

Afriških prigod je sicer vedno kar precej. Ena najboljših se je zgodila Myriam, s katero sva obiskala vseh 5 provinc Skupnosti v Ruandi. Ona je prišla direktno iz sosednje Demokratične republike Kongo, za pot pa je jasno da potrebovala negativni izvid testa na Kovid. Ko je lokalnim ljudem povedala, da je zanj plačala 50$, so jo pomirili, rekoč: Torej si plačala negativni test. Navaden test namreč stane 15$ manj. Tako pač je v Kongu.

Enkrat sem izgubil telefon, a me je pripetljaj spomnil na onega izpred nekaj let. Ker sta si sorodna, lahko zapišem oba. Z Jernejem sva se iz Pariza skupaj vračala domov. Nisva imela direktnega leta, pač pa sva prestopila v Zürichu, kjer se je ravno tisti večer razvila neverjetno obsežna nevihta, zaradi katere so morali odpovedati nekaj deset letov. Na letališču je nastala prava kaotična situacija, ko so morali v enem trenutku več tisoč ljudem priskrbeti prenočišče v hotelu. Bilo je že precej pozno, ko dva končno dobila bon za hotel in za prevoz. Ob vstopu v taxi sem svoj telefon položil na sedež in ga tam tudi pozabil, ker je vožnja trajal precej dolgo in sem medtem postal zares utrujen. Ko sem tik pred spanjem hotel nastaviti budilko, sem se zavedel, kaj se je zgodilo. Šel sem na recepcijo in jim sporočil svojo težavo. Rekli so mi, naj se vrnem v sobo, oni pa da bodo poklicali taxi službo. Dejansko so me malo pred 2. uro ponoči poklicali in sporočili, da je voznik prijavil pozabljen telefon. V roku nekaj minut mi ga bo dostavil. Ves vesel sem šel na recepcijo in počakal taksista. V rokah je imel moj telefon, a je želel plačila stroška njegove dobre volje. Ups … v Švici je to bržčas normalno, jaz si pa tega nisem tako predstavljal. Zahteval je 300€. Obstal sem brez besed in očitno precej zmeden, zato je receptorka rekla: Ne bomo zapletali. Ob meni je stala družba več ljudi, ki so očitno zaradi enake situacije ravnokar prispeli v hotel in ki so imeli odvečen bon za taksi. Vzela jim je ga iz rok ter ga izročila najditelju. Slednji je bil očitno zadovoljen, jaz pa tudi. Zaradi telefona in zaradi radodarnosti letalske družbe.

Letos poleti sem se z avtobusom odpeljal v našo sosednjo župnijo Lochham, kjer smo imeli neko srečanje. Navadno grem s kolesom, takrat pa se je spravljajo k dežju. Med potjo sem imel v rokah telefon, ki sem ga v končni fazi odložil na sedež ter tam tudi pozabil. V cerkvi sem opazil, da telefona nimam v žepu in bil precej gotov, da sem ga pozabil na avtobusu. Zelo neugodno, saj me je dan zatem čakala 3-tedenska pot v različne države izven EU. Skoraj si ne morem predstavljati, kako bi bilo to možno brez telefona. Markus mi je predlagal, da se vrnem na postajo in počakam voznika, ko se bo po isti poti vozil v obratno smer. Medtem pa je zbrana družba izrekla prošnjo vsem svetnikom in angelom, da poskrbijo za telefon. Postavil sem se na postajo, na kateri se je po kakšnih 25 minutah ustavil isti voznik. Pristopil sem k njemu in mu rekel, da sem na sedežu pozabil svoj telefon. Segel je na polico, iz nje vzel telefon in mi ga izročil. Rekel ni nič, jaz pa sam kratek: Prisrčna hvala.

English

Moments of laughter and providence in 2021

In the spring of 2021, after months of discussion and discernment, we bought 7 chickens. The project is led by our chaplain Gregor, whom we help if needed. What a joy it was when after about 2 weeks, we found the first two eggs in our homemade chicken house! Of course, we collect them regularly and often share them with our neighbors from now on. But it happened that Henrietta seemed to show that she wanted to hatch at some point. Every morning we found her sitting on the eggs and had to chase her straight away from them. And no, we don’t have a cock. At least for the time being. At which point, one evening, we made a plan that seemed practically crazy. We went to a nearby medium-sized grocery store and bought a 6-pack of the most expensive: organic and free-range eggs. We labeled them in the box where our hens lay their eggs and watched in great anticipation to see what would happen. In keeping with her tendency of the last few days, Henrietta sat down on them and started hatching them. We googled the number of hatching days; it said 21. And so it was: on the 22nd day after hatching began, 3 chicks hatched. It was Markus’s birthday. I can’t say that we were precisely moved, but we were certainly delighted. In the meantime, the appointed hen has become a real mom with much care for her chicks. This includes the occasional unusual, but above all loud, clucking. One day we had a liturgy on the platform in front of the church with the first communicants and their parents in preparation for the First Communion celebration. Our hen entered its loud cockcrowing phase at this time, which was heard in abundance among the assembled congregation. Markus was forced to explain that the voice of our chicken was coming from our garden at the back. The children immediately wanted to see them after the conclusion of the liturgy, which was enough to spread the word about the parish hens and chicks throughout a significant part of the town. Indeed. So I once heard passers-by on the pavement, observing our garden, saying that somewhere inside were and the parish priest’s chickens. Because of the lush hedges, you can’t see into our garden very well. In short, the home is beautiful, of course, because of my brothers priests, but the chickens indeed add a little more color.

In Cameroon, we have changed our mode of transport this year. We have decided to travel within the country between Douala and Bafoussam by bus. The company that operates the route requires all passengers to report to their waiting area 1 hour before departure. So my local companion Jean-Pierre and I waited and chatted. Two of our parish chickens came up, only for me to complain that we have a problem with foxes in Europe. So much so that you never know when one of them will end up as fox prey. After which Jean-Pierre has a flashback which almost makes him jump in his seat, saying: ‘Why don’t you catch the foxes and eat them?! And finally, when I actually boarded the bus, and we were on our way, so to speak, my seatmate was pleased to confirm that we were on VIP transport. I did not quite understand what he was trying to say; perhaps that we had paid a lot more than we would otherwise have? Or that something like this is appropriate for a white person? After that – probably because of the look on my face – he explained himself: we each have our own seat.

There are always plenty of African adventures. One of the best ones happened to Myriam, with whom we visited all 5 Community provinces in Rwanda. She came directly from the neighboring Democratic Republic of Congo. Clearly, she needed a negative test for Covid to get there. When she told the local people that she had paid 50$ for it, they reassured her, saying: So you paid the negative test. A standard test costs $15 less. That’s the way it is in Congo.

I lost my phone once, but the incident reminded me of one from a few years ago. Since they are related, I can write them both down. Jernej and I were returning home together from Paris. We did not have a direct flight, but a connecting one in Zurich, where, that very evening, an incredible storm had developed, forcing the cancellation of dozens of flights. It was a real chaotic situation at the airport, where thousands of people had to be put up in a hotel at one point. It was already quite late when we finally got a voucher for the hotel and transport. When I got into the taxi, I put my phone on the seat and forgot it because the ride was quite long and I was getting exhausted in the meantime.

Before going to bed, when I was about to set the alarm, I realized what had happened. I went to reception and told the hotel’s staff my problem of forgetting my phone. They told me to go back to my room, and they would call a taxi service. In fact, they called me shortly before 2 o’clock at night and said that the driver had reported a forgotten phone. He would deliver it to me within a few minutes. I went to reception and waited for the taxi driver. He had my phone in his hand but wanted to pay the cost of his goodwill. Oops … I guess that’s normal in Switzerland, but I hadn’t imagined it that way. He demanded €300. I was speechless and obviously quite confused, so the receptionist said: We won’t complicate things. A group of people next to me had just arrived at the hotel, apparently because of the same situation, and who had an extra taxi voucher. She took it out of their hands and handed it to the finder. The latter was obviously pleased, and so was I because of the phone and the airline’s generosity.

This summer, I took a bus to our neighboring parish of Lochham, where we had a meeting. I usually go by bicycle, but it was getting down to rain. During the journey, I had my phone in my hand, which I ended up putting down on the seat and forgetting there. I guess I should change the pattern. I noticed that I didn’t have my phone in my pocket at the church and was pretty sure that I had forgotten it on the bus. Very inconvenient, because the day after I had a 3-week trip to various countries outside the EU. I can hardly imagine how that would have been possible without the phone. Markus suggested that I go back to the bus station and wait for the exact driver to go the same way in the opposite direction. In the meantime, the congregation in the church made a request to all the saints and angels to take care of the phone. I stood at the station, and after about 25 minutes, the same driver stopped. I went up to him and told him that I had forgotten my phone in the seat. He reached the shelf, took out the phone, and handed it to me. He said nothing, and I just said a short: ‘Thank you very much.

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