Yesterday I came home to Swaziland.
After a two year hiatus, I returned to a place that captured my heart
five years ago and forever changed my life. That place is the
Mkhombokati carepoint in the rural area surrounding Manzini, Swaziland.
Driving the familiar dusty road in the team van, seated next to another
returning team member, we were giddy like children to see our friends
again. I liken it now to one of my favorite recollections of my youth –
the anticipation of Christmas morning. (My brothers and I would
literally sit outside on the front lawn - in California mind you where
in December one could easily do this - waiting for our grandparents
orange buick to come around the corner. It was upon their arrival that
all the festivities would begin.) What child-like pure and wonderful
anticipation! Thank you Lord for rekindling such stirrings in my soul!
With
each bend of the road, we began looking for signs of our friends and
the carepoint. Ah, there are some children in Capital t-shirts – last
year’s shirts, no, from the year before! Oh what does it matter! These
are our children and we love them so much and can’t wait to throw our
arms around them! (Imagine how our Lord Jesus feels the same about each
and every one of us!!)
Then
there was another familiar sight. As we drive onto the carepoint
grounds, I did not initially focus on the ongoing construction of the
main building, nor on the newly tilled garden which will provide food
for the children, nor even the small schoolroom where so many of our
activities have taken place. I SAW THE TREE. The lone tree that
symbolizes for me the beginning of our relationship with this community.
The one that was in the first photo we ever saw of our future family.
The one under which we spent all of our time on the first visit BEFORE
there were any other structures. This tree whose branches now serve as
the shady parking spot for the vehicles. Yet the tree alone, while it
conjures up visions of our relationship with Mkhombokati and the early
days, the tree to me is incomplete without considering the lives of
those who have been protected by it, been nourished under it and simply
relaxed or played under it.
Yes, the carepoint is an empty space until the children begin to arrive…
This
was another familiar stirring within me. The first day arriving at the
carepoint. Of course we arrive too early as we are still on American
time and, remember, TIA (This Is Africa). There is no one there. Yet.
(no one except the faithful S’bongile who is always the first one there.
She is one of the mothers who cares for our children and serves as the
pre-school teacher.)
But
soon, a group of small children enter and sit down a short distance
from us. We swarm them and they are overwhelmed. We back off. Soon
enough it will be them swarming us and what joy that will be.
Then
a few more arrive - a young girl with a toddler on her slender hip and
another one in tow. They start trickling in and the subsequent joy that
accompanies the anticipation of each new arrival is like one long
Christmas morning!! Praise God for such delight!
Soon the carepoint is teeming with life! Amidst the chaos of so much activity - the
thrill of being reunited with old friends and the excitement of the new
team members experiencing the wonders of this Spirit-filled place – I
stop, take a deep breath and thank God for bringing me here. I am HOME.
- Dannele A.
