Friday, 29 October 2010

Canadians

Canadians are wonderful folks, don't you think. I suppose I may be a bit biased, but ...

In September and October we had guests from Canada. It was a delight to share your home and time with them.

In August of 2009, when we were back in Canada, we met a couple from the Vancouver area. At the time we met, their hopes to adopt a Mosotho baby had just been dashed. They had been matched with a baby but then things happened here, and it just did not work out. However, they did not give up, and when in Lesotho in September of this year it was to be united with their children, a brother and sister. I think their wait has been worthwhile, the brother and sister are a most delightful pair.
Delightful you say? ... her? Humph!

The folks, Garry and Tracy, along with an older son (Tyler), were staying in a guest house in Lesotho.
Garry and Tracy, and their children.

But a guest house, even a nice once is still only a step up from a motel, and we tried to have them over often to give the children a place to run, and them a place to hopefully relax a bit. (Maybe Tracy would not say "relaxed" when she thinks of the day we dragged her and Tyler and the two little ones up a mountain.) The days were hot, and the water hose helped the children cool off. They had a sandbox to dig in; Tsepiso, the boy, did his best watering the garden and helping light the braii (charcoal barbecue); and he and Reitumetse, the sister, knew exactly where our toy box was and what was in it.
...delightful??? You bet I am!

What contributed to the "wonderful" designation was how the family made themselves at home. After a meal, Tracy would be up and in the sink washing the dishes. She never asked, she just quietyl made our home, her home. We did not have to entertain. Wendy and I could just 'be' and that made for wonderful times together.

Then a few weeks later we had guests over from our home church in Canada. No busy little ones this time, but we had G-POP . Check him out on U-Tube. It was a busy week, sharing with them our lives in Lesotho, and introducing them to our friends here. Again, what contributed to making their visit wonderful was that they quietly made themselves at home. Both Wendy and I tended to be busy or away in the mornings. No problem! George figured out the coffee maker right quick, it didn't take Esther long to sort out what was where in the kitchen, and Anton found his role in the sink washing up. They had their own little routine for breakfast and even when I was home, I just stayed out of the way.

When they weren't fending for themselves we enjoyed good fellowship together as we traveled about, shared meals together, and chatted and talked about life and things and the God we serve.
Nkono (grandmother) was very excited to have
guests from Canada visit her home.
Memories of Lesotho.

Both visits have left me with a warm and comforable feeling. Some might say it is just latent desires to return home to Canada, or that there is something special in connecting with compatriots, and they may be right to a point, but I also say that Canadians know how to make themselves comfortably at home, away from home, ... at least these Canadians did and that made our time with them that much more relaxing and enjoyable.

Yeah, Canadians.

Cameras always draw excited attention.

~ Benno ~

Saturday, 16 October 2010

Ho Haha - Reprise

Here is a further update on Ausi Moselentja's house and family.

I was out to the home on Friday to pick up the last of the tools the Machabeng volunteers had used when they created the garden plots. I picked up a few packets of garden seeds to take along.

When I arrived at the house, Ausi Moselentja's younger brother, Lehlohonolo, was forlornly wandering about the yard with a hoe hacking at weeds and grass here and there. The garden plots were ready, we had had a nice rain, and he was ready and wanting to get to planting their garden. But there were no seeds. Moselentja related how he had been asking when they might get some seeds. I spent M70, (about $11 Cdn) on the seeds. A paltry sum by Canadian standards, but an amount which would have been out of the reach of Ausi Moselentja. Anyways, when I arrived with the seeds it was almost like Christmas.

As he brought each seed packet from the shopping bag, Lehlohonolo would whoop with delight and show it to Moselentja, just like a child at Christmas might show another the gift he had just unwrapped. Then he was off and back in a few moments with a knotted piece of string and a couple of sticks with which he staked out a straight line and he was planting his seeds. I got to enjoy seeing his broad smile as I helped him with planting the corn/maize, then he was onto the pumpkin and beet-root while I was loading the vehicle.

Meanwhile Moselentja was busy waxing the floor and the steps to her house. She has also been busy adding some other touches, making her tiny house a home. What a pleasure it has been for me to be part of this project and witness the delighted smiles on the faces of Ausi Moselentja and her siblings. So little, really, has brought so much hope and delight to this little family.

~ Benno ~

Thursday, 14 October 2010

Ho Haha

Ho haha - 'to build', in Sesotho. Something I though I might never do was build a house, but I have had the joy of seeing a little house built for Ausi Moselentja, the young girl whose house was flooded, whose family and life was split between a number of neighbors. I have written about her situation before, and now I can provide a delightful update.

In writing about our life in Lesotho, surrounded by so much need, I try not to specifically solicit support for projects or situations. So when funds do come, it must be God. That is what has happened with the house for Moselentja. A person here in Lesotho was aware of her need, and that started the process. There was a time when the funds committed would barely get the house built, but as an organization the Mustard Seed decided we would proceed and then other funds came in. The last donation truly was God reminding me that he is our provider.

I was writing a letter. I was sharing about Moselentja's house and though at that time we had enough funds to build the house, there were no funds for extras like painting the interior and having the city water brought on to her site. I wanted to hint in my letter that it would be nice to be able to do that for Moselentja, but the little promptings in the recesses of my mind said not to. So I didn't. The very next day I received an e-mail from friends saying they were sending some funds to use as we chose, but they then suggested maybe the funds could be used to add a few extras for Moselentja's house. God had truly provided.
The building site. Unfortunately Moselentja's garden had to go.

The old hut that would come down.

The preparations began in August, getting materials quotes, and lining up the workers. First was to bring down an old hut on the site and the initial materials were paid for and delivered on August 17. Then we were delayed about a week waiting for the bricks to be made, but by the end of August we were under way.
Laying the foundation.

We hit a snag when one of our workman, a small time contractor, was offered a contract elsewhere. I like to think that God blessed him. Even, though he had not been working, he had a tough time coming on board with our little project at the rates we could pay him. But he said he would do it for the sake of helping an orphan family. Well, just after they got the floor poured he received a contract offer to do painting at the new national hospital being built (another story for another entry). There he has about three months of work for him and about seven other men from his community.
The walls going up.

That left us with our friend Ntate Kuena, the helper, not the trained builder, but he struggled along for a couple of days on his own, and then God provided again. Through our new staff member, some unemployed, but accomplished builders, offered to assist. Up went that little house. They even asked to do the painting, which we now had the funds for.

On October 01, the house was ready for Moselentja to move in. She is so happy to have a place of her own. It is tiny, the size of a bedroom in Canada, 12' x 10.5', but it is hers and her family's. She shared how they all snuggle together in their bed and chat happily, together, before drifting off to sleep.
Moselentja and her brothers and sister in front of their new home.
(With a little visitor in the corner.)

Then another blessing. Students at Wendy's school need to do service hours. So for three days we had five of them, under Ntate Kuena's supervision. They cleared stones and debris, and needed to wield a pick axe to dig into the baked, hard packed ground. As with any group of volunteers, Ntate Kuena's assessment was that two worked very hard, two did some work, and the fifth student's role was to entertain the others with her non stop chatting. Nonetheless, today, waiting for the rains and a few seeds, are three little Lesotho garden beds that would have taken Moselentja untold days to develop.

Thank-you to those who have prayed for this project, and others who supported it. The water installation fees have been paid and now it will be waiting for a couple of months for the installation. And there are a few funds remaining to add another one or two more touches to the inside of of the house.

Ho haha. It was a lot of work and a learning curve for me. My pencil is not as sharp as the Australian woman who provided the plans and materials list. Nonetheless, amidst the struggles and challenges I referenced in my last entry, it has been a joy to seen Moselentja in her own home.

Jehovah-jireh; the LORD Will Provide.

~ Benno ~

Monday, 4 October 2010

Doing My Duty

I would like to say that I have not been adding to the blog for the past six weeks because I have been busy. Yes, I have been busy, however my lack of writing reflects more my reticence to write about the struggles of my soul.

I left Canada three years ago. I remember even then part of the struggle. In leaving Canada was I just "doing my duty"?1 At that time that was how I sometimes felt. I even considering calling our blog, "Just Doing Our Duty." The passage in Luke1 is a tough one, inferring I serve a demanding master who seems disinterested in my needs and burdens. Following God 'step by step' sounded more of an adventure, not as mundane and uninspiring as just 'doing my duty'. The last six weeks has been struggling to come to grips with a God who promises no recognition or reward, who expects that I just "do my duty".

A number of the girls the Mustard Seed serves have been making poor life choices. They have not had the strength and courage to follow the narrow way, but have followed the crowd. We talk of peer pressure in Canada, but I think it is even harder here, in a culture that demands greater compliance with group expectations. So we have one girl stealing, another dabbling in drugs, a third pregnant, another couple - I'm not sure I want to know what they have been up to. My response was to question God. I am still smarting from the Amy Carmichael story and it was easy to question his plan and purpose when things seemed to be going wrong.

I had thought I was following God 'step by step', that the people and situations he brought across my path were not coincidences but part of his direction for my life. Now seeing the behaviour of the girls it all seemed to have been so in vain. Allegations of a lack of integrity concerning one of our board members added to my disappointment and discouragement. Maybe I had not heard God. Maybe I was just using His name in vain, suggesting that 'coincidences' were anything more than just that, coincidences. I felt let down by God. I had completed my part in leaving home and friends and family, and what had he done. Not much it appeared. I argued with God.

I was not just questioning God, I was angry at him. I still have not resolved the story of Amy Carmichael, and it was easy to let my anger at God's seeming injustice in her life be rekindled.

So God, I left Canada, seeking to follow you one step at a time, and after three years of trying to understand and obey your desires this is all I get, failure.

You promise to hear my prayers.2 Well I have been praying for the Mustard Seed girls. Is your arm to short to save and protect them?

You promise life to the full3, but what do I get, discouragment and disappointment and questions.

On one hand you say that I am fearfully and wonderfully4 made but more often you remind me of my worthlessness5 and unrighteousness. An unworthy servant expected to just do my duty6.

You call me friend7, but it seems always conditional8. What kind of friend is that? Where is the friend that "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres"9?

God, if you do not exist or cannot change situations, then life is truly a chasing after the wind10, pointless and futile, where the one with the most toys wins. Is this all that life is?

How does God speak? When do we hear the voice of God? A day came when I was confronting God with my questions. "Jesus you said, your sheep hear your voice."11 I had sought to hear and understand his voice and to obey it, yet all around me seems to be failing. I was discouraged. If what I was doing is just chasing the wind, I wanted to quit. How does God speak? In the midst of my muttering and bemoaning it was like I caught a phrase from an over heard conversation, "I am not finished yet." Was it my imagaination? Was I grasping at straws? Yet there was something in the words that compelled me to listen. I opened my Bible, I was reading in Matthew, and I prayed, "Lord give me something more, something in addition to a barely audible, 'I am not finished yet.'"

That day I was reading in Matthew 14. John the Baptist, the man who had boldly proclaimed of Jesus, "Behold the Lamb of God",12 was now cast aside, in a prison for declaring the word of God, about to be executed. This John who had boldly proclaimed Jesus' messiahship was struggling with doubt and uncertainty. He had sent his disciples to ask of Jesus, "Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?"13 John died in prison, never having heard Christ's final cry, "It is finished!"14 John had went about in rough clothing, living on what he could, and never saw the finish. Who was I then, to demand that I see the finished result of God's work in and through my life. And as if to tempt me at that moment I received a phone call telling me of another disappointing decision of one of our girls. "God," I wondered, "are you just playing games with me?"

A couple days later as I continued to struggle, I thought of Paul the apostle. How must he have felt at times? Flogged, beaten, imprisoned, shipwrecked, toiling without sleep or food, and carrying the concern of the churches.15 What am I experiencing compared to Paul's struggles?

I can't say that since that day, all has been well. I continue to struggle with setbacks, and discouragements. But, I have let go of some of my anger and distrust of God. John the Baptist's picture of what Jesus, the messiah, would accomplish must have been very different that what occured, causing John to question. My challange is to let go of what I expect God to accomplish and to trust that he has a finish planned for what he has begun.16 There are good things happening, and I need to not let the discouragements cloud the good things. (We finished the house for Ausi Moselentja and her siblings. There are some God things in that story that I will share in a later entry.)

I will leave the last work to Solomon. "A man's steps are directed by the LORD. How then can anyone understand his own way?" Proverbs 20:24

~ Benno ~

1 Luke 17:7-10; 2 Matthew 7:13, 14;
3 John 10:10; 4 Psalm 139:13-16;
5 Romans 3:10-12; 6 Luke 17:7-10;
7 John 15:15; 8 John 15:14;
9 I Corinthians 13:7; 10 Ecclesiastes 2:17;
11 John 10:3 (KJV); 12 John 1:29;
13 Matthew 11: 2,3; 14 John 19:30;
15 II Cor. 11:23-28; 16 Philippians 1:6

Wednesday, 11 August 2010

Travelogue 2010


In late July/early August, Wendy and I took a brief holiday into South Africa and Swaziland. It was a relaxing, though at times challenging, ten days. For those interested, here are a few pictures and a day by day account of our travels.

Day 1: It is winter, the dry season here, in this part of southern Africa. Everything is brown and dusty. Rain has not fallen for over two months. Fire in the veld is a constant threat, and beautiful views are marred or obscured by the ever present smoke. Smoke from farmers and homeowners burning fire breaks; smoke from the widefires that often appear to have consumed whole mountains; and smoke brought on the wind from further east where the sugar cane fields are burnt in preparation for harvet.

At the end of our first day we stayed at a guest house in the shadow of the Drakensburg. We hiked on the high veld, and enjoyed the vistas of the mountains. In this area a few wild animals still roam free including the Africa's largest antelope, the elusive eland. Our host was a gentle farmer, and the eland must have known this as one has taken to browsing on his trees. We were treated to the presense of a bull eland, not twenty metres away.
The fuel that feeds the fires.

Day 2 & 3: A bit of a break in the smoke and a beautiful morning view of the high veld. It was the last time we saw the horizon clearly on our trip.
Morning sun on the Drakensburg.

The second day we traveled east and north through beautiful and sometimes not so beautiful landscapes. The big hills of the high veld covered in grass, I though beautiful; the hills strewn with rocks and acacia trees, or covered in bush veld, I recoiled from.

Wendy had chosen a guest house just into Mpumalanga province to stay for out second night. The owner was an artist and teacher who works in warmed glass. Wendy's intent was to take a class the next day and since two warm bodies were required I found myself learning about working in warm glass. (Despite all the reference to warm it was quite cool there on the high veld.)

The next day, after a wonderful hike in the surrounding hills, was spent in a chilly, warm glass studio. I managed to squeeze a few creative juices out of my cranium and came up with what looks like a child's drawing. Wendy on the other hand was captivated by the possibilities of the medium. Before we left, she had booked us back in for another two days on the return trip.
An example of warm glass artistry.

Day 4: Day four took us though mountain plantation tree farms, mostly pine forests on our way to Swaziland. Miles and miles and miles of plantation forest. We stopped at one private plantation (there was an art studio there that Wendy wanted to check out), and I spent some time chatting with the owner. A pine tree comes to harvest maturity in 40 years, about half the time as in Canada. Tree farming (he called himself "just a farmer") is a long term prospect.

His family were harvesting about 240 hectors per year. Somewhere back 40-45 years ago someone in the family - father or grandfather - decided on tree farming and began the transformation of what was maybe marginal pasture/ranch land, into forest. Forty years at 240 hectors a year is nearly 10,000 hectars or 100 square kilometers of plantation forest.

By far the biggest players are the forest company plantations and like the smaller private plantations, what they fear during the dry season is fire, fire that can wipe out years of planting and nurturing and investing in a harvest 40 years in the making. In 2007 one wild fire destroyed something in the range of 23,000 hectares just across the border in Swaziland.

Swaziland was a most interesting contrast with Lesotho. We arrived in the mountainous western part of the country, leaving the plantation forests of South Africa for the plantation forests in Swaziland; forests that provide industry, jobs, and income; forests that are conspicuously absent from the mountains of Lesotho other than a few small, small lots.

That night we spent in a novel abode, a traditional bee hive hut upgraded for us tourists with a cement floor and modern bath room facilities attached. Part of the enjoyment was watching a group of Swazi women completing the rethatching of one of the huts. The traditional family hut was apparently much small than the tourist version where we spent a night.
A bee hive hut under renovation.

Another delight at this stop was seeing some different widelife. Wendy had a tough time believing a crocodile was not a plactic or cement creation. It lay absolutely still, nary blinking an eye, blending into the grass.
A still life??

We also had a view of one of the most dangerous animals in Africa1. Boring they are, lounging in a pool with maybe their eyes and ears joining their noses above the water line. But when agitated, hippos apparently "can outrun a human" and "the bellowing of the bull hippo measures an ear-splitting 115 decibels, sounding like the roar of a lion."2
Hippos: exciting, they were not.

Day 5: The plantation forests were not the only notable difference between the Kingdom of Swaziland and Lesotho. The tourist and craft industry is much more highly developed in Swaziland. I especially enjoyed the locations where a number of crafts were highlighted at a single location with artisans on site showcasing their craftsmanship. Baobab Batik and Swazi Candles were highlights in terms of watching the artists demonstrate their craft. Then there were the carvers and their giraffes.

The carved giraffes are ubiquitous in craft markets here in Africa, but in Swaziland I had opportunity to watch the men who craft them. I marveled as, with just a hatchet, the craftsman hewed out the one on the left in the picture below. A single chisel takes the giraffe to the next level (on the right). Then it is sandpaper, and more sandpaper, next painting each spot on by hand, and then polishing with what I think was floor wax.
Simple tools of the trade.

The finished product.

Day 6: Day 5 had ended with Wendy taking me on a drive on the wild side. She had booked our accommodation deep within one of the Swazi game parks in the east of the kingdom. When driving in game parks and watching for animals their comes a time when one start seeing animals in odd rocks and tree stumps. On the way in I was seeing rhinos in the rocks. On our way out a glance to our left and I thought, "Oh, more rhino rocks." But we stopped anyways, and backed up for a closer look.
Rhino rocks, they had both been lying down when we first saw them.

Up close and personal with a rhino rock.

Day 6 continued through more of eastern Swaziland and I was again impressed with the diversification. In the west were forest plantations. Then we had passed though fields of pineapples, and now in the east we were passing though miles of sugar cane plantations; commercial farming on a big scale. The contrast with Lesotho continued to be so evident. Unlike Lesotho, Swaziland appears to have an economy built on more than government services, and subsistance farming. Yes it is still a poor country, but there is a vibrancy I sensed that Lesotho does not have. It seems that the forestry, tourism and craft industries, as well as the commercial farming add enough to the economy to bring a bit more optimism and joy, ... and money, the Swazi GDP per capita at $4400 USD is more than twice the Lesotho per capita GDP of $1700.3

KFC is another ubiquitous icon in Southern Africa, and the Swazis show some of their zest in their advertizing for the Colonel's chicken.
A unique and eye catching bill board.

While we enjoyed out morning motoring through Swaziland, I found the afternoon in South Africa dispiriting. Yes, we travelled through prosperous plantations of oranges, avocadoes, bananas, nuts and sugar cane, but the lingering image was the endless miles of housing in what was an apartheid era homeland.
I don't know why the bananas are bagged on the tree.

The map showed a few towns scattered along our route but the reality was miles of housing, endlessly strung out over marginal land. Some of the homes were quite nice, but after traversing the lush plantations I could not help thinking about the past when people were forced to move from their land, land that offered at least subsistance farming, to this distant, heavily populated, and seemingly inhospitable tract that seemed to go on and on and on.

We spent the night just beyond the homelands area. It was reinvigorating to be away from the congestion. We were high on a hill side, away from the lights and housing, though our view was obscured by the smoke. The stars were bright in the dark sky and in our host I found some one who was finally able to point out the southern cross constellation and how to use it to approximate the direction south.
Which came first, the termite or the tree?

Day 7: The next morning we were heading back the direction we had come but some distance to the west. What a difference thirty kilometres can make.

The former homelands are located in the low veld on the edge of the northermost reach of the Drakensburg escarpment. The return drive was up on the escarpment. Here the land had more value. The endless miles of housing were replaced by endless miles of plantation pine forest interspersed with small settlements. At times I could have imagined myself driving through the lodgepole pine forests of the Alberta foothills. The imagery was reinforced later when the wiff of a pulp mill, (as in Hinton, AB) assailed our nostrils.
High on the escarpment.
The low veld is obscured in the haze.

Alberta's foothills??

We ended that day in the area of Nelspuit, the provincial capital of Mpumalanga. We spent the night at a delightful guest house on a small private game reserve. where we had kudo, nyala, and wildebeast wandering near our cabin. The owner has a most remarkable house. He chose to build his house around the granite boulders on his property rather than blast or bulldoze them away. These were massive boulders, up to two stories high, incorporated into the architecture of the house. The main entry opened into a narrow corridor between two massive granite megaliths. He was a game guide and hunter. The corridor opened, and his hunting trophies, mounted on a massive granite wall, left a spectacular impression - notwithstanding one's view of game hunting.

Day 8: By this time I was getting a bit weary of travel, so Day 8 involved a short trip into Nelspuit. I had picked up a side wall puncture somewhere along the way. It was a slow leak, but the tire needed replacing. So, while Wendy did some shopping at a modern, upscale mall, I hung out at a tire shop. I confess. Between getting the tire fixed and joining Wendy at our prearranged meeting spot I managed to hit the mall's South African equivalent to Mountain Equipment Co-op.

The afternoon was spent at Sudwala caves, apparently the oldest know cave system in the world. Our guide led us 600 meters undergrown into a cave system that once held 3000 (yes, three thousand) Swazi men, women and children AND their 500 cattle. They had used the caverns as a safe refuge during an ongoing conflict between two brothers vying for the kingship of the Swazi people.
Our guide showing the ingenious torch used by the cave refugees.
The branches of a certain bush were pounded to form a tuft
which when dipped in beeswax or animal fat made a great torch.

The Scream??

In the cave we met Dr. Adam Sheeva, a family physician from High River, Alberta. He had left South Africa many years ago, and while back to visit family he came upon us fellow Albertans ... in a cave. And, we with a little luck we could have met another Albertan. Upon arriving back home we learned that a friend from Red Deer had traveled almost the same route as us through Swaziland and Mpumalanga a few days earlier than us.

That evening it was back to the cabin with the kudo, nyala and wildebeest.

Day 9 & 10: Wendy was in her element the next two days as we were back, surrounded by quiet hills, in an tranquil valley, with a nearby warm-glass art studio to indulge her creative energies. She thinks maybe she has found her calling for her retirement years, whenever that might be.

Day 11: A long day of driving, but we arrived safely back home, grateful that the actual driving part of our trip was uneventful but for the slow leaking side wall puncture. As for me, I have had enough driving for a while. Yes, to see and experience all the things we did requires putting on many miles, but after this trip and the earlier trip to Katse, I was ready to put up my feet and leave the roads to others.

~ Benno ~

1 http://goafrica.about.com/od/africasafariguide/tp/dangerousanimals.htm
2 http://didyouknow.org/animals/hippo/
3 https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/index.html

Doctor, Doctor

Like a fluttering sparrow or a darting swallow,
an undeserved curse does not come to rest.*

One Mosotho has commented on his countryman in comparision to citizens of New Zealand. If a New Zealander sees his neighbor buy a new car he will redouble his efforts to keep up with his neighbor until he can buy an even nicer new car. If a Mosotho sees his neighbor with a new car, in jealousy he will sneak in at night and break the windows, smash the headlights, and slash the tires. Another form of the story is that if a Mosotho woman sees her neighbor with a nice new outfit, she will wait for an opportunity to find it on the clothes line, when she will then take a knife or sissors and cut it into stips. Jealousy, a consuming passion that destroys rather than builds up. Even jealousy about who one has as friends.

We have a Mosotho friend. Others are jealous, among other things, that she has friends who are makhooa (white). One of her work mates would subtly abuse her at work, pushing her, stepping on her feet, any little thing to make her day less pleasant. When this did not get whatever result the work mate was desiring she turned to a sangoma, a traditional diviner or doctor, to place a curse on our friend. Our friend responded by continuing to rest in Jesus, and placing her trust in Him.

After many months circumstances have resulted in our friend being blessed in her career, and her agitator being dismissed from her job. The traditional doctor has apparently advised the jealous workmate that our friend must have hired an even more powerful doctor. The traditional doctor's strongest curses had no affect, our friend was healthy and prospering when the traditional doctor expectd her to be gravely ill.

For me the best part of the story is our friend's response. While she is rejoicing in her 'doctor' and his protection, she is also praying that her antagonist would recognize the power and protection of this 'doctor', and take Him as her 'doctor', too.

How great is your goodness [O Lord],
which you have stored up for those who fear you,
which you bestow in the sight of men
on those who take refuge in you.
In the shelter of your presence you hide them
from the intrigues of men;
in your dwelling you keep them safe
from accusing tongues.
Psalm 31:19,20

~ Benno ~

* Proverbs 26:2

Tuesday, 10 August 2010

Mariha

Mariha - winter. Mariha is getting its last bite of the season in. We have been having very nice weather, but a cold front blew in early this week, winter's last blast. We had just returned from a short trip to South Africa and Swaziland where it was even warmer. We arrived home to a forecast that said cold was on the way.

Now, our nice coal heater had left us. Its owners had returned from the U.S., and with three little children, including a three month old baby, they needed it more in their new house than we. So we would be using electic heaters for the last few weeks of winter. With the cold front forecast I headed out to stock up on electricity units. Ah, my surprize and dismay to learn that while we were on vacation the electricity company had been advertizing forthcoming upgrades to its vending system and that no electricity would be sold from Aug. 6-8. Just back from vacation we had enough units to easily cover a week or more of regular use, but electric heaters eat a lot of electricity. We would be able to use them only sparingly until we could but more units. It would be a cold few days, but rather an extra layer or two than to be without hot water or lights.

A day or so later, the folks who had taken their coal heater kindly lent us a propane heater. Ah, welcome heat, though I knew my propane tank was low. On the coldest morning of the last four weeks it all came together. We had went out to buy electicity units, but the new system was down. Now, on that cold morning the propane ran out. Aeeii, it was a cold morning in the house. Staying snuggled under that extra blanket was where I would have liked to stay. BUT we did have hot water, and still enough electricity units for the basics for another few days. As well, the local corner store was open early so I was able to pick up propane. In addition, I am sure the new vending system will be up later today. We will be warmer and more comfortable soon enough.

This brief experience has again reminded me of how blessed we have been here. For most of the winter we had the coal heater which made our house so comfortable. I was also reminded of what is normal for our Basotho friends. Every morning they get up to no heat, very often no electric lights, and no hot water. In a cold house they get up and light a candle or lamp. Next is to light a paraffin heater to warm water to bathe. This is the routine for each of our girls in the Mustard Seed program, and sometimes there is no parrafin to heat the water. Yes, my life is so comfortable and I have so much to be grateful for, ... even in mariha.

For those interested, I will post a travelogue on our trip in the next week or so.

~ Benno ~