5. Confessions of an environmentalist

My name's Jason, and I'm an environmentalist.

Really. And not just a green-wash environmentalist either, we actually try to live it out. It is probably my parents' fault: they were vegetarian before it was eco-chic and mainstream, before Quorn was even thought of, when it was all lentils and tofu. And of course I'm married to an environmental scientist, so it kind of goes with the territory. We have solar panels, and a log burner burning scavenged logs (three years and we've not paid for wood yet). We put our bin out once a month, use terry-towelling nappies, and have a compost heap. Now I'm no Al Gore or anything, but I would give us seven out of ten on the right-on-o-meter

For years we were a one-car family. When we had just one kid I did the nursery run every day with Daniel in a bike trailer on my way to and from work, rain or shine, sleet and snow. I can tell you're impressed. Only when Reuben started nursery did we get a second car, and I bought the cheapest, smallest, most efficient second-hand town car I could [And how many times has he cycled to work since? Zero - Ed.]

Like many environmentalists high on their own sense of smug self-satisfaction, I have a real chip on my shoulder about urban 4x4s. Our diesel Ford Mondeo gets 60mpg on a long run. Try beating that in your X5. It's a standing joke that I can't stand 4x4s that never see mud, where the closest they get to going off road is bumping up the kerb at Waitrose. For the benefit of people outside the UK, Waitrose is a posh supermarket which sells, amongst other middle class basket-fillers, Waitrose Essentials Polenta. Since when has polenta been essential. Really.

So it is a source of some merriment to people around me that for half of this year we've owned two of them. Two 4x4s have been sat in the drive, staring at me reproachfully as my credibility dissolves like a marble statue in a shower of acid rain. And not even proper 4x4s either, the cool kind with checkerplate panels and a winch. No, the kind we have are the kind driven by hairdressers and estate agents. I'm talking, of course, of the Toyota Rav4. Plural.

Now I will admit one thing: I have always wanted a 4x4, always. However my enviro-credentials would never allow it, so when we made the decision to move to Africa it was a perfect opportunity: Zambia has a lot of sand roads, so a soft off-roader is perfect. Toyota is popular in Africa, and the Rav is the smallest and most efficient of their 4x4 range. Simples. I did some research and found that it is cheaper (and by cheaper I mean it is half the price) to buy in the UK then ship to South Africa and import, so I went out and bought a nice Rav4. Perfect. Until Claire pointed out that the boot had about enough room for, let's say, a handbag. Maybe two. If we were transporting false nails and shampoo a couple of kilometres to work then it would be perfect. For a family of four with the contents of a house to transport 1200 miles across 4 countries, well, not so perfect. Apparently I should have noticed this when I bought it.

So as a result, the next weekend I went out and bought another, larger, one, wiping out all our savings. I believe the words I used were "oh, we got such a good deal on that one it will sell in a week, probably at a profit!". Indeed. That was in May. And since then it has been a big silver turbo-diesel millstone around my neck.

Four weeks on eBay followed by two weeks on GumTree followed by six weeks on Autotrader with not even a nibble. I had three haircuts in that time. Continents have moved faster. Eventually I cracked and asked a friend to sell it for us. It sold the next day. Go figure.

So that's where we are now: back to being a one-4x4 family. And what else, I hear you excitedly ask, is going on?

Well, we fly in ten weeks. Even writing that down doesn't make it feel real. Ten weeks. It doesn't seem long since we were first asked to do this, yet it's a full year ago. We've sent almost all the stuff we need: a crew of 60 people went to South Africa from our church recently and they each took a plate or a pasta maker or a towel or something, which was amazing and has saved us a fortune in shipping. The rest of our bits will go in the boot of the car when it goes on the boat in December.

We've applied for our visas for SA, a process which involved well over 100 pages of information and, as I can only presume therefore that it gets weighed in as part of the first sifting at the consulate, we used 100gsm paper just in case.  As for Zambian visas...after spending a month unsuccessfully trying to negotiate the Zambia High Commission website we decided it would be quicker and easier to just drive there and do it in person. Prayers for speedy visa resolution would be appreciated.

Our flights are booked and paid for, Daniel's school places in South Africa and Zambia are confirmed, and we've kicked off the process of getting our international bank account and credit cards. We've been vaccinated against every disease known to medical science, the meds being so numerous and in some cases so unusual that we had to pre-order the vials and close off half the roads in town so the bulk container could be delivered by articulated lorry. We have so many needle marks that we're afraid of being taken for a family of drug addicts.

On the plus side, my eBay seller feedback is approaching 800 as we've sold the collected junk of 10 years of home ownership, the proceeds of which have bought, amongst other things for Africa, the iPad on which I am writing this blog and which will be our primary means of communication in Zambia. Oh yeah, and we both quit work. Claire finishes in five weeks, I in seven. We're incredibly sad to be leaving our companies, but both have said they would love us to reapply when we get back.

And our funding: we're still a touch short of what we need but what a blessing. If all the money that people have pledged comes through we'll have almost 85%.  When I explain to non-Christians what we're doing, it's that fact which most grabs their attention. It's another incredible validation of the calling God has given us and of the relationships we've built up over the years. Our sponsors are trusting us with a significant investment, which comes with a massive responsibility: we really have to make all of the investments count.

We'll do our best to make sure they do.