Sunday, October 8th
It’s Sunday today. The 8th of October. I haven’t written in awhile. Not much to write about due to the rest and the Sabbath like time during debrief.
Let’s talk about the drive from Nelspruit to Lesotho. Went from busy city life. To wide, carefree land. The flat land that held the crops were attractive to me. The perfect rows. The water systems, in them, making the green stay. The flat, rural scene slowly faded into the mountains. The outlines of the monstrous, yet magical creations stood on the horizon. Slowly getting closer. White clouds turn to gray. Gray, quickly to black. The wind calls to the souls of those hungry for more. Heads are out of the windows. Hair. Carelessly dancing. Not caring about the tangles to come. The eyes drawn in interest as the once visible mountain ridges dissolve into the dense mist that is the rain. Windows still down. Heads still out. Hearts still filling. The smell of rich African rain fills the bus. Perfect. Eyes no longer able to stay open or dry. The wind causes happy tears to overtake our red cheeks. The rain filled clouds eventually blend with the sky as the sun rests her head. The mountains, her pillows. Headlights start to dance. Guiding the way to the Lesotho border. Passport in hand. 2 more stamps in the pages. Officially in Lesotho. Now in a parking garage attached to a mall. Unload my home (bags). Teams going their separate ways. Goodbyes are said. The girls produce the tears. My team along with 2 others are the last ones standing after it all. Somehow the mall is still open. Well the food court including the bathrooms. We quickly get KFC and the very limited wifi available. Conversations are short. Goodbyes from across the ocean this time. Wifi becoming slim. I’m outside again. The garage with the orange columns. Our shelter from the relentless rain. Two taxis enter the scene. Two very sketchy men step out of their chariots. Both look and seem to be on something. One by one. The orange columned garage is filled with less voices. 3 trips to get all of us to our home for the next 2 days. Our temporary home in the city. Till we go to our much longer stay in the mountains. The rain left on the streets gives off a dreamy feel. One I admire. Every small light. A reflection for my eyes to see. New things. Every time. After going down back roads for a hot sec. We reach it. Its not much but I’ve seen worst. Just grateful and blessed God provided. A long tiled hallway separate the boys and girls bunks. Time flew in the city. Next thing I know I’m on the way to the mountains that so desperately call my name.
Wednesday, October 11th
It is currently Wednesday. I couldn’t write about yesterday. The reason being, the road we travelled on would’ve made my writing illegible. So I typed it out on my phone. Here’s what I saw, felt and wrote on Tuesday.
Back and forth through the younger hills — painted the most beautiful yellow, the footstools to the white giants towering above that were piercing the sky — the road we take goes, like a baby in a cradle, back and forth. Sound asleep, in a dream that puts the mind in a place where feeling becomes lucid and leaves skin pinched.
Another description of what I saw when we got higher up into the towering walls:
The white haze that we looked up at from down below — from the vast valleys infested with the yellow daze — has now captured our white vans. The snow ferries greeting us, with the utmost eagerness, through the windows. They come, sweeping through the valley we drive through. The haze becomes thick with its unknown qualities and beauty, making the road ahead a mystery in itself. The white powder laying, thick, with the richly painted brown rocks on the ground, leaving no blemishes to be seen. There, laying so innocent and pure. Untouched. Except for the unseen animals that call the mountains home. Going over passes that present a new life than the one behind us. Not quite sure where the place we will call home lies in this white blanket of curiosity, leaves me content with what God is displaying to me in this moment. Now.
A poem that came to me out of thin air while watching a film about Shakespeare. How ironic…
Words come and go and
come and go they may,
for the mind drifts to distant lands
where the heart finds its true passions
my heart is big for all my supporters and my family back home. thank you all for the prayers! they are doing big things here!
