Jon and I left at 5 on Thursday morning to pick up one of our volunteers and friend from Swaziland after she assisted the Swaziland project for a period of 3 weeks. Lacey is from Calgary, Canada, and went by herself to serve the unknown Africa in whatever way they could use her. (Here’s Lacey’s perspective) She herded the cows with her stick many days and helped to plant a corn field just outside the house of Babe Samuel Lukhele (to say ‘Babe’ is a sign of showing respect to the older men in Swaziland). She also met with the volunteers who walk very far distances to serve their desperate areas, and she visited patients’ homes. The Lukhele’s re-named her Nothando, which means ‘love’ in Siswati, the local language.

Me and Lacey “Nothando”

Nomsa Lukhele, the wife of Babe Lukhele, is the project leader for the home based care work in Swaziland that we support. She has got a stall of 190 chickens and another with many many chicks to sustain themselves, the volunteers and the patients. Asweile couldn’t stop talking about this relative of his who helped him since he was in grade 6. “And yesterday was my last day in matric! She is an amazing woman for many many people…” Due to the mountains and big distances between homes, some of Nomsa’s grandchildren are walking one hour each day to get to school. The Lukhele’s go to bed at about 7 every night and wake up very early to get ready for the day.

Walking to school…

Lacey & I at the Lukhele’s chicken shed:

Jon and I got lost a couple of times on our way to Khapunga in Swaziland. It was a hidden blessing as we drove around for more than an hour at a time to find our way through the mountains and over the hills of this very rural community.

During the drive I noticed the small amount of people that we came across along the road and I remember thinking by myself, there aren’t many people here. The project must be small. But on our way to visit a 22 year old patient in her Gogo’s (Grandma’s) homestead, I asked Nomsa how many people we are serving in Kaphunga. I expected her to say 30 orphans and a few patients. Nomsa turned to me and pointing at Lacey, said, “Ask Nothando to tell you. She knows…” And then Lacey explained, “Nomsa and her 30 volunteers serve 1 300 orphans.” I was stunned as I scanned the mountains, bushes and small dirt roads everywhere. Deep down and all around in these green mountains and behind bushes, God’s eyes can see the wear-and-tear from the rain of every small mud hut. And He is leading us to those that no one sees or knows about.

One of those hiding in this mountainous area is Gogo Boshiwe. She is one of the patients the project looks after. Nomsa said that she is either in her eighties or she might already be 90 years old. Lacey calls Gogo Boshiwe ‘my gogo’. She doesn’t have good eyesight anymore (as on the photo you can tell that she didn’t know where to look for the camera).

Nomsa (on the left) with Gogo Boshiwe:

Gogo Boshiwe’s house which she built herself

Nomsa encouraged us to take a picture with her and she was so flattered!

This gogo is so full of joy. She makes you laugh right where you are. She spoke to us in Siswati and Nomsa translated. In the photo you can see a mud hut behind her. Gogo Boshiwe built 3 of these by herself. And behind these huts and a stick-fence (there’s a photo) lies a corn field that she just built a few weeks ago.

She is probably 90 years old, can hardly see, and find it hard to move around between the huts, but she proudly and with much joy speaks of her land.

When she said goodbye to Lacey she said it with a smile, “Remember me.” We walked away laughing as we could hear her chuckle in the distance. What a Granny! She is amazing.

We went deeper into the mountains. I have attached a photo of Rosta (a home based care volunteer) and the 22year old patient that we also visited.

The girl, who looked 16 years old, came outside when she heard Rosta’s voice, concerned that we might pass her by if we couldn’t see that she was there. She was shaking when we sat down with her. Not because it was cold, for it was good weather that day. She had trouble breathing too, but she sat quietly just staring in front of her. The mud hut was cool inside, but very small.

The hut next to theirs which is completely dilapidated where they do their cooking.

We sat on grass mats. Against the wall was a stack of maize meal. Next to her gogo in front of her was a bowl of mixed maize meal and water. At the sides of the mud hut you can tell that rain is slowly tearing down this home. Heaviness hung in the air as we all watched silently as Rosta fed the patient. I deliberately chose a photo where her eyes are covered to protect her identity. This was a very difficult visit and too sensitive for me to feel comfortable sharing more photo’s with you.

I remembered the scripture where Jesus said that we should clothe those who don’t have clothes, feed those who are hungry, look after those who cannot look after themselves.

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me…Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these you did it to me.’” Matthew 25:36-40

In this desperate situation I quietly prayed that God will remember her. It was difficult to just leave her behind, knowing that this is what her every day looks like. That was all we could do, the rest was in God’s hands.

“Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter — when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not to turn away from your own flesh and blood?” Isaiah 58:6

My time in Swaziland was short but very valuable. I take many memories with me that touched my heart in amazing ways. This is a short feedback from my day in Swaziland. There was so much more to it. We have received great hospitality from Nomsa and her relatives. I will gladly pray for God to reveal His hand through Nomsa’s project in even more powerful ways, ‘cause we serve a God of Miracles.

I dare you to pray with me…!

The road down via the R40 is straightforward enough…

We knew we had to go to the South Africa – Swaziland border post at ‘Oshoek’. The road we were on suddenly turned to this after about 120km of driving….

Seeing two cows pulling a ‘half-cut’ along the way…

50 kms later… it was still dirt road… and we figured we must be going the wrong way…

Although… we knew if we continued to follow the road it would take us to the border by some crazy back route…

We were lost.

We hadn’t even reached Swaziland yet!

We doubled back and after a 100km detour, we were back on track and we crossed the border into Swaziland.

We got to the KaPhunga area and it was a struggle to find Nomsa’s place. Everyone spoke SiSwati so it was a struggle to get directions to get to the right place.

Checking a dirt road in KaPhunga before driving into it…

We asked everyone for directions and we would edge closer and closer until finally, we get to a house who pointed at the house next door when we asked where we could find Nomsa. We had found our way by some crazy miracle of asking directions knowing only the first name of the person we were looking for and being directed by pointing. KaPhunga is by no means a small area – some of the kids walk more than an hour to get to school.

We were so happy to see Lacey! The time was 1pm… 4 hours more than what we had estimated!

Where we stayed on Nomsa’s property. You can just see the amazing Yaris we drove down in. It handled itself incredibly!

More on the project soon…

Apparently the mountainous terrain has led to it being called “The Switzerland of Southern Africa”. Click here for some photos. The place is apparently also in dire need of rain.

After getting all the normal road directions, the road becomes far more rural – as do the directions – which is the reason for the title of this entry. A few others who went there a few weeks ago got lost and the 4 hour journey became an 8 hour journey…!

After that I will be heading up to Jo’burg to pick up my mum!

She says yes and I go with her to give her a hand unloading everything.

We get to the car and she gets in.

“How am I supposed to drive with THAT?!” she exclaims.

“What’s wrong with that?”, I reply.

“THAT! How am I supposed to drive with that?! Where is the pedal?!”

I was slightly confused as to why she was so animated. I didn’t think there was anything particularly out of the ordinary.

“Which part do I press to give it gas?”

I look over to see what she is talking about:

Without batting an eyelid I look back at her, puzzled as to what was so out of the ordinary.

“That part is what you press for the gas”, I said, pointing to the metal stick where the accelerator pedal was supposed to be as opposed to the piece of plastic sticking up from the floor of the car… which is the bottom half of the broken accelerator pedal.

“WHY IS IT LIKE THAT!? WHERE IS THE PEDAL?! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DRIVE WITH THAT…. LITTLE STICK??”, she shouted.

I looked down again, realising that it was pretty not normal and started laughing.

T.I.A.

I was completely unperturbed that the car was like that. It appeared completely normal to me!

I think I have become conditioned to expect all these little things in a somewhat derelict or worn down state and hardly bat an eyelid. That’s what you get used to here. Dealing with whatever comes your way and taking it in your stride. Making do with whatever you’ve got.

I’m going to get home in January and think what kind of world I’ve come back to – a place where everything seems to be in order and things like a missing accelerator pedal is not a normal thing!

Welverdien streets:

The project at Welverdien consists of one building on a decent sized plot of land.

The Kombi we drove:

Me lending a hand digging a trench for the massive vegetable garden they are planning.

My blistered (weak!) urban professional hands. I now understand the importance of gloves and tools that aren’t broken or breaking (The pick head flew down – that’s right – down not off and wedged my finger between it and the handle). But T.I.A and people make do with what they have. They are incredibly resourceful.

You can also see how dry it is there – and I can tell you it is absurdly dry. There are only a few water sources (boreholes) in the entire Welverdien community which is approximately the size of Eastwood.

It was incredibly hot – so i took a break in the car and some kids jumped up and sat with me. The one with white shirt’s name is Comfort. I was wondering why the kids around kept shouting “Comfort! Comfort” when I was told that it was his name!

Kids…

Lunch: Pap (miele meal) and Chicken

Bye!

That same night back at home there was a huge thunderstorm. It was a huge contrast going from the dryness that was Welverdien back home to the storm!

PS. After a few days of being bedridden, and completing a course of anti-malarials, I’m ok now.

I went to the Department of Home Affairs today with a few others so they could get their visas sorted.

All the irritation, frustration and shock at the sheer incompetence and injustice of how things were conducted there came back to me from when I went to get my own visa extended just a little over a month ago.

When I went to get mine I, allowing my vocation pervade my actions, made sure to look up the law about getting visas extended.

Without getting into the detail too much I was shocked when the person at the counter at the DHA told me that I needed to fill in these other sections of the form that I knew didn’t apply to me. At first I politely told her why the section didn’t apply to me. She told me she wasn’t going to accept my form if I didn’t fill it in.

What kind of arbitrary ridiculous-ness is that!?

I resisted with a smile and told her that it wasn’t right but she would have none of it.

You might be thinking what the big deal is about filling in an extra section of the form – well when you have to travel 45km to get to the DHA and they tell you to fill in a section which not only requires extra signatures but also other information that you know other people didn’t have to fill in anyway then it is pretty annoying. Add on to that the fact that the DHA closes at 3:30pm then it makes for an inconvenience.

And I thought a government department in Sydney was lazy!

Well when I went back the other day, the person at the counter decided to change the rules again, demanding that one of the sections to be invalid for my friend’s application because the handwriting was the same for two different sections (one of which was the section which isn’t supposed to be applicable in the first place) though the different sections were signed by different people.

My friend was applying for the same visa as I was and even that didn’t happen to me! It was absurd!

One newspaper calls it the Department of Horror Affairs.

I just couldn’t believe that the counter clerks were obviously not trained in the administrative duties they were conducted. Not only that, they were a law unto themselves and making things up to impose on different people. Completely arbitrary! What is the point having laws in place if the government department themselves are not clear on following them?!

So imagine this: you’re an orphan who can’t get ID documents (and therefore access to things like schooling, government grants) because you don’t have a birth certificate. You go to Home Affairs to try to get one… what is going to happen?

Doesn’t instil much confidence does it?

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute.” Proverbs 31:8

If this kind of thing can happen to me who actually has the benefit of education and professional skills to be able to recognise oppression and injustice (because that is what it is) then it places a huge responsibility on us to call injustice, oppression and other wrongs when we see them, particularly because many others are not able to.

Compassion is hard work
It is crying out with those in pain.
It is tending the wounds of the poor and caring for their lives.
It is defending the weak,
And indignantly accusing those who violate their humanity.
It is joining with the oppressed in their struggle for justice.
It is pleading for help with all possible means…
- Henri Nouwen

In Australia we have the phrase “keep the bastards honest”.

Called to be light of the world, shouldn’t Christians be doing this? To say that injustice and oppression are unacceptable and to move on it?

“The righteous care about justice for the poor, but the wicked have no such concern.” Proverbs 29:7

Inconvenient, but.. This Is Africa.

Needing to replace them, I went to get a new pair of shoes. I went for what was pretty much the cheapest pair of shoes I could get which I could still go running in. R139.99 which is about $22AUD or so when I got them.

They would do, I thought, given that I’m here as a ‘missionary’ and so on. I don’t need anything fancy…

As the weeks passed and particularly as I continued to go for morning jogs, my ankles, feet and knees began to hurt. Still I thought that this was something I should just deal with because I should count myself lucky to have shoes at all. If people in the Masoyi community can deal with this kind of thing I should stand in solidarity with them and grin and bear it.

Me climbing down Mt Legogote in the said shoes last week:

A few days later I went for another jog and my knees were in such pain! The arches of my feet hurt and my knees were swollen. I couldn’t even squat properly.

I decided to go to the mall to get some new shoes.

No big deal I thought – I’m a functional shopper so it should be a simple 15 min in-and-out affair. Including parking time. I’m sure most guys can relate.

Not so.

I found a pair of runners for R600 (which is cheap for a decent running shoe!) Didn’t take me long to pick a pair out, but I suddenly had this strange feeling in my chest as though something was pulling me.

For the next two hours, I walked or should I say paced the Riverside Mall in Nelspruit absolutely torn.

How can I justify buying these nice shoes just because my joints are hurting?

Have I gone soft? Am I just WEAK?!

Those two hours rattled me. It was the first real taste of the re-entry culture shock I’m expecting when I get back to Sydney. I’m not sure if I can handle going back to Sydney and going through this kind of thing every time I’m functioning like ‘normal’.

So what am I to do? I think the key may lie with how I handle what has been entrusted to me, in this case, opportunity – ‘riches’. Freely all this was given to me, Freely I must give? So then the point of all this isn’t whether I actually get the shoes, but figuring out ‘why’ and ‘what for’. The focus is then not on the thing but on the story behind it all.

There were some words that I remember from before I came here, and they seem to have come up again:

As for the rich in this present age, charge them not to be haughty, nor to set their hopes on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who richly provides us with everything to enjoy. They are to do good, to be rich in good works, to be generous and ready to share, thus storing up treasure for themselves as a good foundation for the future, so that they may take hold of that which is truly life.

First Letter of Paul to Timothy 6:17-20, ESV

I hope you can see that you’re rich.

That you are blessed so that you might bless.

And that this will allow you to take hold of that which is truly life!

PS: The offending shoes, and the new ones:

PPS: Thanks 180 for the chat on Friday night. Good to hear the year 12s still keepin’ it real

One by One from Heather Yourex on Vimeo.

Thanks so much Heather for all your work on all these videos!

Last week a team of high-schoolers came from a church in Jo’burg on a short term mission trip. At the end of it they sang everyone this song (written by them!) which really touched many of us.

It encapsulates so much of how confronting it is to be here. I’m sitting on the same porch that they refer to in the song as I write this blog entry, and I still remember all the noise from the poker game in the dining room they were talking about.

Thanks to my room-mate-brother-from-another-mother Callan for getting the words for me. (Check out Callan’s blog here).

I was sitting in Masoyi on the porch on a hot summer’s evening
There’s a poker game going on inside but I don’t get the meaning
Been working hard all day with the sun beaming down on me
My eyes are now open and now I see

I see
They don’t have much but they have enough
I see
The way they live is pretty tough
I see
They have faith in God not stuff
I see

The day is now over but the battle rages on
As my eyes grow heavy I think of the work I’ve done
The world didn’t change today but I understand
Every little action is part of God’s great plan

I see
They don’t have much but they have enough
I see
The way they live is pretty tough
I see
They have faith in God not stuff
I see

And it makes me wonder
Who is the real me?
But as I close my eyes to pray
I see

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