This was one of Wilfred’s nieces. She had a nervous habit of biting the keys that she carried around.
The second day in the village, we set out to find a new family for our next life exchange. We went further down Matukalo’s street, knocking on nearly every door we passed without much success. People either weren’t home, or just didn’t want to open their doors and talk to us. Then, we stopped in the middle of the road and prayed that God would lead us to a house where we would be well received, and He quickly answered our prayers.
We ended up at a fairly large house with several people standing out in the yard. As we approached, a man named Wilfred stepped forward, hand extended, to welcome us. The women quickly disappeared into the kitchen to start preparing something for us, while Wilfred ushered us into his living room, giving us the prime seats in his house. We discussed everything from church to crime, comparing our lives in the States with his in QwaQwa. These were the topics he was most interested in, as he’s a choirmaster at his church and a police officer in his village. His love for people and his vision for God’s work in the world were truly an encouragement to our ministry group, and we all felt as if we walked away from his house having received more than we had given.
Wilfred’s house was the first place we experienced the joy that comes from a bottle of pineapple Fanta. His family was so hospitable, that they served us not only the soda, but also corn on the cob fresh from their garden and shortbread biscuits (cookies), which we were required to finish. South African culture is the opposite of American culture in this sense: leaving food behind is impolite, unlike in the States where it’s frowned upon to take the last of anything.
This household was also quite industrious. Wilfred’s brother, Ephraim, had a battery charging business. Those who weren’t fortunate enough to have power in their homes would run lights and minor appliances from giant lead-acid batteries, which they would then take to Ephraim for recharging. He was apparently very fond of his skills in this area, have labeled himself a scientist. He took great pride in showing us how he hooked up the batteries, and how to do the math to determine how many batteries could be charged simultaneously with his charger.
Wilfred’s wife ran another business, repackaging large bags of snack foods from the grocery into smaller, single portion bags to sell to schoolchildren each afternoon when classes let out. We were able to help her fill some of these bags, and quickly became proficient at tying plastic baggie knots, and then counting each completed unit for inventory’s sake.
Wilfred loved his chickens. He claimed they weren’t for eating, but I think we all knew better than to believe him.
This family also kept a slew of chickens in their yard (though they would sometimes wander into the house as well), and kept a sty with a couple pigs behind the house. When we asked Wilfred about the chickens, he told us that they weren’t for eating, he just liked having them around. Somehow I don’t quite believe that, but the number of birds he had could bring some validity to his claim. They also had several very neatly planted rows of corn. The compound was quaint, but there was a certain comfortableness to it that made it seem very homelike.
We invited him and his family to come to church with us on Sunday. I figured his choirmaster duties would preempt his ability to attend another church, so I was surprised to hear him say that he would come, but, alas, his family never showed up on Sunday. I also informed him of an upcoming Thrive conference for pastors in the hopes that the pastor of his church would attend, so hopefully this won’t be the last we hear from Wilfred.
Sorry, comments are closed for this article.