“Therefore, since through God’s mercy we have this ministry, we do not lose heart…On the contrary, by setting forth truth plainly we commend ourselves to every man’s conscience in the sight of God.” 2 Corinthians 4:1-2
It took nearly three hours, but we finally arrived at our destination. Sweaty and hearts pounding, we looked for someone who might speak English. After being spottedby a staff member we were escorted to some plastic chairs for a brief time of rest before getting to work in the classrooms.
“Where on earth have you been?!” the look on the faceof the care point director seem to ask. She was clearly concerned and slighty perturbed that my teammates and I were so late for our assignment. That’s when we told her all that had happened that morning…
8:30am We leave the team house and begin our trek into the city of Manzin, to the bus rank. We are honked at and proposed to continuously along the way.
9:30am We reach the bus rank and our team splits to go to their respective care points. The site before me is nearlyoverwhelming. The bus rank is a big dirt arking lot full of vans, called Kumbes, with allusive phrases plastered across the front and back windows and bumpers. Behind the bus rank is a row of street market vendors selling everything from vegetables to plastic keychains. Sounds of the city are loud, each voice fighting to be heard over the rumbling of engines and, of course, squawking chickens. There are people everywhere, all moving with purose, whether catching a Kumbe or selling street-side. The work day has begun. We sot the Kumbe that reads “Manzini-Ngwane Park” and step on. Being the only white people on board draws immediate attention and the fact that we are all females doesn’t hel either.
9:35am Our Kumbe pulls out of the arking lot and the journey begins. There is no space betweenn any person, as the driver tries to squeeze in as many paying bodies as possible. I pay the 12 Emalangeni for the three of us, which comes out to be about $1.75.
9:50 Kim, Jessie and I are now not just the only white people on board the van, we are the ONLY people on board, aside from the driver and his doorman. I look down at my directions scribbled on a piece of scratch paper. I counted the blocks after the turn at the hospital, I saw the shops, but no billborad or dirt road after the “big tree” as my directions said. I reread it all to see if I missed anything. I finally decide to ask the doorman if he knows where the care point is. “Oh yes!” He exclaims and shouts something in Saswati up to the driver who immediately stops the van.
“Here,” he says while opening the door with an outstretched arm as if to lead us out of the vehichle.
“Well that was good timing,” I tell my teammates, and we pile off in relief that we’d finally made it.
10am We are still wandering the dirt roads, searching for the care point among sparse buildings. We ask a boy along the road for help and he, without words, leads us up the road and around and down another road to a small preschool. With shouts of gratitude we thank him and walk up to the rainbow-painted home, ready to serve. A man approaches us, clearly confused as to why three sweaty white girls have shown up as his house. In our best charades we ask about the care point and are directed to another teacher. She explains that this is simply a preschool out of someone’s house and not affiliated with AIM or any other organizaion. As we soon discovered as a cultural act, the woman politely leads us back to the main road and points us in the right direction.
Turn right here, left there, and “continue straight past the KFC sign and you will see it.” With each direction she gave the accompanying mmotion, only the straight past KFC was paired with a definite right hand turn motion. This left us questioning. We thanked her anyway and we set out again.
10:30am We reach the KFC sign. the dirt road happens to end here, so no going “straight past” it. We discussed our options. Jessie needed a pit stop so we figured we’d stop and ask for more directions at the primary school. Children in navy and white uniforms flooded the campus of the school that was really just a bunch of temporary (T-shack) buildings inside a small fence. The first building we wandered into happened to be the schooloffices. We waited in line at the reception until a large, Teddy bear of a man greeted us with glee. Immediately he pulls us into his office and we soon discover that he is the principal. We exchange handshakes, inroductions and jokes. Telling him our dilemma, he calls for the receptionist. She hurries over to help us and even pulls a student out of an exam to assist us. After many directions and just about as much confusion, we decide to set out again.
Before we can leave, a small girl fights for our attention. “She doesn’t speak English and has mental problems. She wants you to come meet her teacher. Will you meet her teacher?” The receptionist urges.
We were already so late… what’s a few more minutes?
The girl had already runto her classroom to get her teacher. The teacher’s eyes were moist and red from tears and her face looked troubled. Another teacher explains some hardships she’s been facing and that she didn’t know what to do or where to turn.
“Pray!” I exclaimed. And prayed we did. We laid hands, petitioned the Father, and spoke life. We turn and pray for the little girl with the mental illness as well. There was a definite anointing in that place.
I have never seen two more delighted faces. They were beaming, grinning from ear to ear. These prayers moved them, changed them. And they moved me, too.
Every hill we climbed, every minute we were late, every wrong direction we were given was all made worth it in that moment. For those prayers. For those smiles. We were able to offer hope where it had been lost. And even though it seemed we were the ones in need of directions, that teacher received some direction of her own that day.
11:20am We reach our destination. Hot, tired and sweaty, yet filled with the joy of the Spirit and the work He does even when you’ve got other things on your agenda.
Every moment is a moment of influence. How will you use yours?
