So we started off on Wednesday with a blazing hot day. It must have been into the 30s (or about 90 for those who are using Farenheit) and the sun was beating down very hard on us. Once we'd loaded a whole drum kit, a mixing desk, and an amp (all for the church in Kestell) into my car we were on our way to Harrismith.
Having not long gotten my car back from what ended up being basically an inspection that showed no signs of leaking oil from the engine or the gearbox, we got underway and just cruised the distance enjoying the sun as we drove through the hills into the heartland of SA. After a quick stop to visit some old church connections of Themba's in Pietermaritzburg (the church there was one of a few that really fell out big time with Newfrontiers in SA after Simon Petit's death) we carried on cruising. You know the story by now - just driving on a pretty flat piece of road, and suddenly the engine cuts out and we have to coast to the side of the road. Thankfully a tow truck appropriate to my service was there within seconds, and we counted it as one of those curious answers to prayer (because even though we broke down, which we didn't pray for, help was right on hand, which was good).
While at the repair centre we saw some cars that had been towed the day before when there was a big accident on the N3 (the road we were travelling on). Being up high and on winding steep hills, the N3 freeway can be pretty dangerous as it gets wet, and very misty as you can find yourself driving through low cloud. Drivers are generally quite impatient here, and so a lot of accidents end up happening. Some of the cars we saw were caked in mud, having clearly gone off the side of the road. Speaking to the guys working at the repair centre they said that one particular Merc ended up with two dead passengers. It's a sobering business to work in, I'm sure! That made me altogether more determined to make use of the time by witnessing to these people. It's definitely something God's been speaking to me about recently - the need to just get on with it and tell people. Jesus didn't come down and put up a sign and say, "Anyone who's interested, I'll be on the Mount of Olives this afternoon". He didn't wait to be sought out, but came to seek and save that which was lost. So it is that we must do the same, not waiting for golden opportunities, as great as they are. It seems that a family was running much of this business, and one that would have called themselves a Christian family. When I was taking my car for a test drive I was speaking to the mechanic with me and ended up telling him how Jesus said it was imperative that he be born again (for he said he was "born a Christian", and that he "believed", but didn't go to church or anything like that). It didn't seem to have much effect, but it was good to speak the Word to people and take it to them rather than waiting for them to come to it.
So after the fuel filter replacement we were on way again, believing God for help along the way should we need it again. This wasn't just a nice visit to Harrismith, it was a mission to mend strained relationships, particularly those in the church there who were particularly aggrieved that they weren't all automatically invited to Themba's wedding. Turns out anyway that we would probably have broken down somewhere between Pietermaritzburg and Durban on the way back anyway. Granted, that may have meant that I could get towed home rather than to Ladysmith, but the main problem would still be the same (a worn out fuel pump that's tricky to find and could cost loads).
But, as you know, we broke down again about 10km from a place called Winterton. Winterton itself is in the middle of nowhere and you suddenly find yourself in a nicely laid out village, only to just as suddenly find yourself out the other side and into nowhere again! It is at the edge of Drakensburg country though, the region of hills and mountains near Lesotho, which is a world heritage site for good reasons! Until we broke down again we were very much enjoying the grand views as we went along the road.
Break down we did, however. Then came the struggle of what to do. Should I go with my car to Ladysmith? What would happen? Should Themba go alone to Harrismith? But then we'd come along precisely for the reason that it might prove to be a very stressful time when a man wants the backing of his friends! We decided it would be best to stick together and that we couldn't really do much more than carry on with what we had planned. So we unloaded all the gear from the car and watched it be towed away, with assurance from Themba that guys from Kestell were not far off in coming to get us (we'd been waiting in the baking sun for about an hour at this point).
The time ticked on and the sun started to set. We were truly in the middle of nowhere. Were these guys coming? Certainly it would not be the first time in my experience, or Themba and Alain's, when people said they would do something but really were not. I'm not sure if it's something of a cultural quirk here, as people have often told me that people try to tell you what you want to hear because they want to please you, even if it ends up being something that will not end up being helpful at all (e.g. saying you're coming when you're not). Certainly to say "No, I will not help", would be in many places (not sure about here though) a thing you just couldn't say. So people are more prone to at least tell you what you want to hear, but hope that sooner or later you look elsewhere and they don't have to refuse you. So what about these guys? Surely after 3 hours they should be here? What if they don't come? Maybe we'll have to walk to Winterton carrying all the stuff, or just try and find someone to take us in in the small township just across the field from us. Not a great prospect either way!
I didn't believe Themba when he said, "This is them". He's a real joker and will usually try to dupe you for fun. I thought I had called it right when the vehicle went past us, but when it stopped and turned around it was a very welcome sight! Thing is that it was a bakkie - a pickup truck. This was about the size of an open back Transit van though. There was enough room for everything, but only if myself and Alain sat in the back - which is a very common thing in SA and Africa in general. Police have no cares about bakkies that have a dozen people in the back - it's simply how life works here. Regardless, it was much to be preferred to sitting in the wilderness waiting for who knows what. Thankfully it wasn't raining either!
As we sped along through the Drakensburg at 120kph or so it felt as though at least for now we could relax. There were many things to be thinking about for the next days, but for now it was just time to relax and enjoy. There's something very relaxing about travelling in the back of a bakkie - paricularly as sitting against the cab you're not looking where you're going. The wind rushes past, and it does feel quite spacious and free - perhaps something a bit more like riding a motorbike. The sides to this vehicle were quite high and so it cut off your peripheral vision too. All you could see were the hills in the distance and an amazing sky above that went from blue so deep it was almost black on one side, to a palette of reds, oranges and light blues brushed over a few grey clouds to the other. I tried to get some good pictures of it, but was quite hard moving fast over a bumpy road.
Still, watching the stars begin to fade into view, seeing the mountains go from jagged features to smooth silhouettes, and just being able to relax in the open air was very restoring. It's a great thing to just watch the light unfold over things in the morning, or watch it drain away at night. It takes a few hours, but the variety of shades and views and features is
enough to keep you looking if you'll give it the time. Having enough time to think about quite where God is when it comes to my car, but seeing a soul restoring beauty of God in front of me, I decided I needed to pen some thoughts. In the true spirit of the modern poet I wrote on my mobile phone these words:Darkness lingers in a day of bright,
Things unanswered remain - things that might -
But a light that colours wider than eyes can see
Gives peace for tomorrow.
By now it was cold up in the lower regions of the mountains (not sure how high above sea level we were) - especially when you're in the open at 100kph or so.
At about 8:30pm we arrived in Kestell, at the farm owned where the guys who picked us up lived. They were the sons of the family there, practically Themba's brothers, as he lived there with them for a few years and they took care of him as members of the church, sent him to school, etc. Their kindness was still very evident as they welcomed us into their candlelit home and talked with us at the dinner table. In proper SA style we ate with our hands (though knives and forks were available), using bread to scoop the stew and butternut into our mouths. It was a small house, filled with people, but very intimate. The sound of singing came from another room - worshippers from the church practicing in intricate harmony. We shared news of how things were going in the churches across the world, with me filling in much from the UK scene. It's amazing how keen these brothers were to know about the rest of the 'family' in Newfrontiers, being able to name a number of people I would have thought they'd never have heard of. Family, and relationships, are far more valued here. These people felt not only joined in name, but in spirit, and didn't wait to be involved, but involved themselves with those they considered 'family'.
The head of the house, whose name I can no longer remember, spoke at one point (when english prevailed over Zulu or Sotho) of how God had prospered them and they were enjoying great favour. It was a curious thing, because while their home was quite nicely furnished, it was small, basic, and in the middle of nowhere. Of course, I know all this is relative, but it did make me think however. Life is simply very different where they are and they really were prosperous. Though they had no electricity, and so nothing electrical, they had all they needed. Life moves at a different pace. Hours may be spent preparing meals, travelling to other places, farming, etc. It may seem like you never "accomplish" much in a day, but there's no need to "accomplish" many of the same tasks you have to do in complex city life. They owned the roof over their heads, had plenty to eat, a delightful family all in close relationship to one another, the beauty of the Drakensburg all around. Somehow I didn't see them longing to own a TV!
Yet this sort of life can't be lived in somewhere like Durban - it doesn't work - and hence many who live in seemingly similar conditions in Durban are actually very, very poor. It's amazing how much your life is defined by how people around you want to live. You simply couldn't take such a relaxed and simple approach to life in Durban, or London, or New York. You simply must have a high earning job to pay rent, you simply must buy food from shops rather than grow because otherwise you have not the time, you must drive to certain places to be on time, have internet access to do business with people who do so by email, etc.
Feeling the stresses of this sort of life on me particularly because of my disaster car, I would have traded with them at the drop of a hat! I think what is far more important than what you have is the stability of what you have. That was what was so unbearable in Zim - the uncertainty. That's what's often so crushing about real poverty, I think - that if you're sick you can't do anything about it, that your house might not stand up to the next storm, that you don't quite know if you'll have enough to live even a basic life, that you don't know if someone will exploit your lack of buying power and try to rip you off because you can't go elsewhere. Being much poorer than someone else is not poverty. Poverty is not defined by how much you have, but by how hard it is to get and keep what you have when it comes to the necessities of life (hence why people in the UK can be in poverty). It's those necessities that change from culture to culture. Some, like food, shelter, clothes, relationships, etc, remain the same wherever you go. But in some places many of these things are dependent on other seemingly non-essential things. Like a car. Without one many cannot get to places to get their food, or maintain relationships, or work to pay for their shelter, or can only do so by making use of every waking hour. This is what people do when they "get out of the rat race" - they simplify, and reduce their dependence on secondary things and just live on what they need. It's stability and simplicity.
I've still got a lot of pondering to do about how this makes the Gospel so relevant with it's promises of certain hope, a Father who knows your needs and supplies them to those who seek his Kingdom, etc. I've also got some pondering to do about how Jesus says, "Isn't life more than clothes and food and shelter?" He says it's the pagans who chase after these things. And yet I think it is this "not worrying" about these things that this family could do because their aims were simple. I shall dwell on it some more, but any thoughts would be welcome.
We later left and went to Harrismith, where the same was true. We stayed with a friend of Themba's in his two room little house in the township. The toilet was outside and had to be "manually" flushed, running water was from a standpipe outside (we washed in the morning with a bucket filled with water warmed on the stove), electricity could be hooked up at one point in the house only, but yet he did have a fridge, a small electric oven, a TV and DVD player, and a comfortable bed which he insisted we as guests should have. As a family it would be very cramped, but as a single person, I didn't sit there thinking "This would be unbearable".
As we wound down in the late hours of the night and went to sleep, cramped in this little house, we laughed and joked and were happy. A few hours ago nothing was certain, now we had our basic needs met and that's all we were looking for. So much could be better, but so much of that was largely immaterial. It again reinforced to me that it doesn't matter how much you have per se, but more how vulnerable your life is. Life need not be luxurious to be enjoyable.
In the UK life is often quite vulnerable on a perpetual treadmill of debt, with people now not likely to own their house until about 20 years after they're dead. We may "have" much, but often don't own it, which means there's on particularly prominent, often monthly, means for us to lose it all. It's not a good way to live.
While I'm sure I've only seen a little and only understood a little, it's good to learn again by loss and by those who have little that life does not consist in the abundance of ones possessions!
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