The van slowed and then stopped. It was a sudden change from the bumpy ride that had brought us to our first home visit in Swazi. We were going to be meeting Bhozongo, One of the older men in the community.
Senele, our translator, honked the horn, which we quickly dubbed the Swazi doorbell, and then we all got out of the van. On the other side of the fence and behind a large cornfield we saw someone come out of the grass hut.
As we walked toward each other I got a better view of this man we were going to meet. He was hunched over carrying his years on his shoulders, his bright blue jacket was a few sizes too big and it hung off his body. Gray hair outlined his face and his hands were thick with calluses.
While we sat and talked we learned that he doesn’t have a wife or kids. His sister lives in South Africa but he hasn’t seen her in a while. He lives alone on his homestead and works the cornfields by himself. The neighbors sometimes come to help but not that often. Most Swazis don’t’ celebrate birthdays so most don’t know how old they are, but he told us he is in his late 60s.
Our final question that day was if he had any advice for us. He told us to always keep our eyes on God, He will provide for all of our needs. I left with my heart being pulled in two directions. I was so humbled to meet a man who had next to nothing but loved the Lord with it all. I was also sad that this amazing man didn’t have anyone to be his family. He lived alone and worked alone.
The next Saturday we found out that Bhozongo had a stroke while he was working in his cornfield. He was only found because the neighbors heard him screaming. All I could think about was him lying in the field alone and screaming for help.
A few days later we went to check up on him. This time the “swazi doorbell” didn’t work. And he had locked the gate so we couldn’t get in. Eventually he came out, but he was different. His head hung a little lower and he wouldn’t look at us.The man we talked to a few days before was gone. With his back to us we asked through a translator what we could do to help him. With tears in his eyes he looked up and said that he needed someone to weed his corn. It was going to be his food for the winter and he couldn’t keep up with amount of weeds anymore. The next day we came back and weeded.
On our last day in Swazi we went back to see him, but we wasn’t there. Our translators had no idea were he was. I don’t have a nice wrap to this story. We don’t know how Bhozongo is doing now and we probably never will. But I feel like his story needs to be told. He has so much wisdom to offer but no one to share it with. He is a man of faith, a man who finds his joy in the morning, knowing that the Lord has gifted him that day. He is humble enough to ask for help when he needs it even if it was hard to admit. And he trusts the Lord to provide. We all have a lot to learn from him. Please keep Bhozongo in your prayers.
PS> Sorry there aren't any pictures. Africa internet is realy slow.
