The Story of the
Pants-less Prince
“Mzungu! Mzungu!�
yells a small African boy, standing not a half a foot higher than one’s knee,
from across a small field. The man had seen this boy before. This boy greets a
team of Mzungu’s each and every day, as they head off to ministry. This time, however,
the man was by himself. He was out checking to see if the Dala Dala (African
transport vehicle) had arrived to take his team into town. It hadn’t. The sun
was hitting its three o’clock position in the royal blue sky. The wind was
cooling on the surface of the body. The man looked for a seat in the shade of a
small concrete building.
The young boy finished
his approach as the man took his seat on a small incline at the side of the
building, along the dirt path he was walking on. The boy stood close to the man
with his right hand outstretched from his body to greet him with a handshake. “Jambo�,
says the man, to the boy: as that is Kswahili for hello. The boy replies with a
hearty “Jambo, Jambo!� The man motions his hands for the child to have a seat,
as he lacks knowledge to say it in Kswahili. The young boy takes a seat
directly in front of the man. Staring at the man, wide-eyed, as if he was
awaiting something spectacular to happen. His eyes caught the man’s attention.
They were like pearls inset upon the dusty face of the African child. In these
eyes he saw a part of himself.
For days, months, and years now, this man had hidden away a treasure.
He has had this treasure for years. Since he was a young boy. A pearl deep
inside that wouldn’t see the world as often as it should. It is a priceless
treasure that cannot be bought with money; it isn’t sold, or traded at a local
supermarket. It was an incredible gift that had been given to him. The man
shared this treasure with many people throughout his life, but he tucked it
away quite often, like a golden pocket watch put into the pocket of ones coat.
One may catch a glimmer of light off the surface of the watch. But as fast as
one sees it, the glimmer can be lost, back into the pocket of which it came.
Not a moment had
passed from when the man and the boy sat down, when the young boy’s sister
shows up and greets the man, in the same way. The boy tells her to sit down
with them. She does.
Time passes as the
three of them sit there staring at each other with looks of curiosity across their
faces. Nothing but the warm wind is heard, as it passes through abandoned houses
and concrete structures. The children would smile and laugh quietly amongst
them selves every now and again, but the man sat quietly as he did not know
what to say. The (English-Kswahili) language barrier had proven to defeat the
man as he sat on the dirt. He decided to pray. After a moment of silent prayer,
a thought came over him. “I should read the Bible to them�, he decided. “Truth
is truth, even if they can’t understand my language,� he thought to himself. He
took a moment to pray once again. He prays that the gift of tongues overcomes
him, as to make sharing the truth with these kids easier. The man then, flips
open his Bible to the story of Jonah.
He started by asking
them if they know about the story of Jonah. “Jonah! Jonah!� they began to chant.
He didn’t know if they were just repeating the word they heard, or if they knew
what he was talking about, but he continued anyways. He then began to read the
story, word for word. Slow enough for them to understand, as if he was speaking
their language. They listened intently as the story unfolded.
The Call. The Runaway. The Storm. The Boat. The Fish. The City. The
Repentance.
The man had finished
the story just as the Dala Dala arrived. The man said his goodbyes as the
others were greeted with big hellos, and even bigger smiles. He didn’t know if
the children understood anything he had said, but he had faith that the Lord
impacted them in that moment, even if it was just a tall mzungu man wanting to spend
time with them.
That was the first time in months that the man had stepped aside and
took time to invest in someone’s life. He took the opportunity to share the
treasure he had with these children. It was a truth that boiled like a steaming
kettle, underneath his skin. He was able to share a love with them. A love that
the man thought had left him some time ago. A love he had for another child in
different far away land.
The Man and the Boy – Act III – Coming Soon
