I’ve already written half a dozen blog posts about my favorite country on the Race, so I hardly need to give an introduction to our time at El Shaddai Children’s Home. It was my only my second month, and I easily could have stayed there. If there had been an option to, I would have.
My deep love for Swaziland didn’t have to do as much with “ministry” as you might think. It’s not that ministry was bad or dissatisfying, but it looked different for me than it did for most of the Squad. I didn’t have an assigned “buddy” from El Shaddai – I taught my two girls’ choirs three times a week, and therefore only had a morning ministry assignment twice a week instead of every day. I also had two hours of free time in the afternoons during the designated time for my squadmates to spend with their buddies. During that time I would explore the property, filming video with my GoPro, playing soccer, joining in on a card game, or participating in whatever group activity was happening. I loved the variety every day held, but there was much more to it than that.
Amongst all that variety, I started every morning the same way: I’d grab my bowl of oatmeal or whatever was for breakfast (props to our squad kitchen crew who cooked for all 50 of us every day), head outside to sit on my favorite rock, and enjoy the view. Sometimes it would be clear enough to see eight layers of mountains in the distance, sometimes we would literally be above the clouds as the morning fog cleared away, and sometimes the local herd of cows would be grazing just beyond the fence. The only thing better than the view during the day was the view at night – countless stars and the dust of the milky way, unpolluted by light in this rural countryside. From my first glance of the landscape the day I arrived, I was immediately captivated. When I look at pictures, I still am.
Now of course there was more to it than just beautiful mountains – one of my favorite elements of our time in Swaziland was that the entire squad was there. We lived together, worked together, ate together, worshiped together, and – perhaps most importantly – shared our stories with each other. I made it my personal mission that month to try to have as many one-on-one conversations with my squadmates as I possibly could. I scheduled “dates” as we call them in WR culture (because setting aside time for an individual conversation takes too long to say), and spent them sitting on the rocks, around our fire pit, in the community living spaces, and once in the kitchen pantry when there was a squad-wide game of Elimination happening outside and it was literally the only available, quiet place. More often than not, these “dates” would get pretty deep, with one or both of us sharing our testimonies or important aspects of our lives. Former strangers became close friends on that mountain, and it was during all of this that I realized that my real “ministry” this month was supporting my squadmates – many of them faced challenges in having to invest in their buddies who were hard to connect with. I could be a listening ear when needed, or just offer a hug or prayer when not. This was my first encounter with a lesson I would learn many times over the course of the race – not everyone is cut out to be an evangelist, but someone has to encourage the existing believers.
While based on my description thus far, it might seem like month two was a mountaintop paradise for me, but it wasn’t without its challenges. My first two missions trips focused on orphanages, but spending an entire month living on the El Shaddai property gave me a window into the dark, harsh realities of orphan care. These kids practically raise themselves, and they had effectively shut themselves down in the presence of missions teams who would come and go, over and over again. (Now let me say that there are good practices for orphan care ministry, and it is not always harmful to the kids’ well being). So many of them had either been abandoned by their parents or removed from their homes, all with tragic backstories. On top of all of this, Swaziland is a dying nation. 25% of the population is HIV positive, it has one of the shortest life-spans in the world, and its agricultural economy is beaten down by drought. In my lifetime – in the lifetimes of these kids- it may cease to exist altogether.
Swaziland is also where I was thrown onto the frontlines of spiritual warfare for the first time. With witch doctors and tribal religions abounding, I saw things I had only heard about – you mess the spiritual realm, and it’s going to mess with you right back. During the first half of our time at El Shaddai, it was clear that both our squad and the kids living there were under attack. People were having crazy nightmares, an overwhelming feeling of darkness plagued many, and the director of the children’s home believed that one boy was outright possessed. This was all new for many of us, but as a squad we decided that we weren’t going to sit back and watch it happen. Two prayer and worship vigils were organized – one overnight, and one for a full 24 hours. If we needed any solid proof that these two things are not futile and one-sided acts, this was it. We saw that place begin to change.
Month Two was full of variety, community, and little moments that still make me smile from ear to ear thinking about it. Hearing the girls from my choir sing songs we had taught them long after class was over and I hadn’t even been sure they were paying attention anyway; playing cards with the kids even though Thembe would try to cheat and Welcome would give me a sassy “don’t cry” every time he destroyed me in a round of Garbage; spending an afternoon with Bongiwe as she told me about her dreams to become a scientist; filming a video of my testimony; watching the kids dance and sing without restraint during our final night of worship with them.
Almost exactly a year from the day I first got a glimpse of Swaziland, my heart still aches for this country. This beautiful, broken country that has been through so much – the economy and government are all but given up on, but the eternal fate of these people has not yet been decided. I hope to go back someday – maybe for a few weeks, and maybe forever. I don’t know yet. But I won’t forget, and I won’t stop praying for this nation.
