Tribute to my mother - Takalani Faith Matsila

I don't remember when I first became aware that my mother had died. I don't remember anything about her funeral or when she fell ill. Everything I know about her I learned through those who knew her closely. Other than two distinct memories I have of Mma, my mind is clogged up with snippets and pieces of vague, distant memories of her.

Two weeks ago we held a small, intimate ceremony for the erection of Mma's tombstone. It was during the service when someone mentioned "Garankuwa hospital", that the mere utterance of that hospital, suddenly evoked some vague flashes of the pain I remember each time it was said Mma was going to Garankuwa. I would later learn, as a grown up man, that this was where she received her chemotherapy.

Early one Saturday in March of 1986, while attending a wedding, my mother called her close friend to the bathroom and revealed, for the very first time, that she had breast cancer and how far advanced it had become. That is how some of those close to her came to know what she was suffering from, and that this was the same sickness that had claimed the life of her own mother. It was soon discovered that the cancer had already reached stage 4. And thus began her battle with cancer and rigorous chemotherapy at Garankuwa, and that is how that hospital is etched in my memory.

Some close friends started praying for her, even dedicating 8 days for fasting and prayer for the healing of my mother. Her close friend, the one she first disclosed her cancer to, tells me that it is during this time that she (the friend) specifically started praying that the pain would go away, because my mother's pain had become terribly unbearable. Their prayer was answered, in as far as pain was concerned. Mom became better, and she was able to go back to teaching.

One weekend in May of 1987, three months after going back to work, she attended a conference at a church which didn't have windows and it was particularly cold as winter was approaching. So cold it was that weekend, especially in the church, that on her return home, she contracted pneumonia and was hospitalized. On Thursday, the 14th of May 1987, my mother, Takalani Faith Matsila, left this world to be with The Lord.

My 3 elder siblings were fetched from school on the morning when mom died. Nothing was said to them on the drive home. It was only when they reached home to find our two grandmothers there that they started suspecting something had gone terribly wrong. Papa took them to the bedroom, and here, they were told that Mma had left us - she had succumbed and lost her battle with breast cancer.

My dad is a strong man. But I do not know how he made it through this very dark patch in his life. As if breaking the news to his 3 eldest children (aged 12, 11 and 10) would be difficult enough, he still needed to tell the news to his toddlers, the 3 year-old twins. I'm not sure what he expected. Papa, in his speech at the unveiling, told those who had gathered of how I reacted when he broke the news to my twin sister and I that our mother had died. She had ascended to the sky, he told us. Papa remarks that instead of being distressed by the news, I responded with curiosity and fascination: apparently I asked him, "how did she get up there? Vho to namela stepisi (did she go up by a step-ladder)?" I don't know what his response to this was, but whatever mode of "transport" she used to go to heaven, we would never see her again. Death had robbed me and my twin of knowing anything more about our mother. She was gone. Cancer had won.

She left behind a loving husband, three near-teenagers (two girls and a boy) and 3 year-old twins (a girl and a boy).

Years later, when her grand-daughter (my elder brother's child) Rinae Faith Matsila, suddenly died at the tender age of just 4 months, I worked tirelessly with the undertakers, preparing the grave where she would be laid to rest from her very brief journey on earth. We worked around the clock to make sure that when the funeral procession arrived later that afternoon, my niece's final resting place would be ready. We laid my niece, Rinae, to rest on the early evening of 8th April 2005.

There is something very heartbreaking about leaving a loved one at the grave. Although a staunch Christian, and one comforted by the hope that I will be reunited with my loved ones when Christ appears, I still couldn't help feeling haunted by the thought and tinge of guilt that we had left my loved ones "alone". I remember very well this heaviness when we left my niece at her grave.
Just 1 week later, this heaviness revisited me when death, in its ugliest form, brought us back to the graveyard, this time to lay to rest my twin sister who was suddenly killed in a car accident that nearly wiped out my family driving home after the funeral, just a few hours after burying our niece. Again, I felt guilty, that we were going to leave another loved one alone at the grave - this time, my beautiful twin sister.

But life works mysteriously, and it has ways in which it brings us comfort in strange ways. A few months ago, when we were preparing for the unveiling of my mother's tombstone, a startling discovery was made. One of my sisters had the task to look for our mother's grave. Buried 27 years ago, with nothing substantial to mark her grave, this seemed to be an arduous task. But as her search for the grave intensified, with the help of the municipality records, she finally found where Mma had been laid to rest all those years ago. But to our absolute amazement, our niece's grave, was only a few feet away from her grandmother.

Rinae's mortal body was no longer "alone" as I had imagined. Very close to her, was her grandmother, after whom she is aptly named. Preparing the grave of my niece that sad afternoon in April of 2005, I did not know that almost next to us, lay my mother, a woman I loved dearly but knew very little about. A woman whose fading memory I fantasized about and yearned more of.

My mother is remembered by those who knew her for her warmth and kind heart. She is said to have had a very hearty and infectious laughter that made people happy, says a family friend. She is also said to have been a gifted soprano. Another close friend of hers described her as a teacher dedicated to the upliftment of the black child through a youth mentorship program she helped establish. My siblings remember her, apart from her love for us, for her wit and sense of humour.

Papa tells me that she was a woman who loved The Lord, a woman who supported and encouraged him to be bold when he needed to leave his secular job to go into full-time pastoral ministry after many years of putting on-hold the call of God. So resolute was she in encouraging him that she assured my dad that even though him being in ministry would adversely affect the financial stability of the family, our family would survive on whatever money she brought in from her teachers' salary. That's my mother.

What will I remember her for? How will I remember my beloved mother? I am not sure. But in memory of her, I recently put up her wedding day picture as my profile picture on Facebook. Very beautiful, donning her breath-taking smile, she attracted beautiful comments from my friends as they acknowledged her beauty. So beautiful and youthful is Mma on that picture that one friend of mine, clearly not privy to who this was, assumed that this was MY bride, and remarked how disappointed he was that he had not been invited to my wedding. Mma's beauty has proved to be timeless.

My mom was a beautiful woman, and she was a gorgeous bride, dearly loved by my dad and adored by her children. And that's how I will always remember her - a beautiful bride to my father, a loving mother to my siblings and I, and true to her names, she was a woman of Faith who made those around her Happy.

We love you Mma, and you will forever be in our hearts.

Reflections

MANY YEARS AGO, in the wee hours of one morning my dad woke me up for a serious talk. I don’t specifically remember the year, but what I do remember is that I was still in high school at the time - so it’s a LONG time ago.

Papa has a very admirable ritual of waking up in the early hours of the morning to read and pray (I’m not sure if revealing this detail about him is a violation of his privacy, but I hope he doesn’t mind). If you were spending a night in our home and you woke up just before dawn, you are more often than not, likely to find Papa in the lounge on his knees praying or reading.

I think it was on this particular morning that before or after having poured his heart out to God that he woke me up. I was still drowsy with sleep, but I can never forget what he asked me and what he told me, and the following is an abridged and paraphrased version of the conversation. Perhaps calling it a conversation is not really accurate since very little was said from my side:

Livhu, I remember how you used to always go to church services and leadership conferences with your notepad and Bible. You used to enjoy taking notes. What changed? (I don’t remember answering that question; but he went on). I want to read a small passage from a book I’m reading.

Papa then opens one of John C. Maxwell’s (I think it was) leadership books and reads a passage where I assume the author was talking about investing one’s time and leadership resources. Maxwell then relates a story of how one day when addressing a leadership conference or some such, he encountered a dedicated young man, who’d been attending the conference with so much eagerness. The young man left a lasting impression on the author that at some point during his address Maxwell deviated a little bit to speak directly to the young man.

Papa continues reading to me directly from the book. Maxwell speaking directly to the young man, says something along the lines of the following (please forgive me if the integrity of that speech is compromised – this was close to 15 years ago when this was read to me, but this record forms the essence of what I remember from the passage):

Kevin*, ever since I met you, I have been impressed by your sense of eagerness and pursuit of leadership matters. I met you during the intervals and I have been moved by the dedication you have shown. I want to encourage you to continue seeking knowledge. It might take you a while, but one day, maybe 15-20 years from today, you will start seeing the benefits of having invested in yourself.

After reading this passage, Papa then urged me to reignite my passion for investing in my self-development. And thus ended our “conversation”.

I turned 30 two days ago and as one would expect, there was some deep introspection and reflection that would normally come with reaching this milestone. I couldn’t help but to be drawn to this unusual conversation with my old man, so many years after it had occurred.

Roughly 15 years have passed since we had that conversation, and I feel a little guilty that I have not invested in myself as much as I should have. But with the same token, there is so much that I can be truly grateful for and my focus for the next 30 years is to invest more in self-development.

But I figure the best way to start investing in myself is in what I learned way back at home, from my old man, and that is spending time on my knees. I think everything flows from that.

*I can't remember the young man's name

Shelter from the Rain

LATE YESTERDAY AFTERNOON I knocked on the door of an elderly colleague of mine's quarters. The rain was pouring down heavily and I was soaking wet. Very warmly and concerned seeing how wet I was, Oom Dries exclaimed, "Livhu, come inside man!!".

I kindly declined and quickly explained that all I needed was just a bit of powder soap. I had just finished running a malaria awareness marathon and during my run, I'd dropped a vest in the mud. I therefore needed some soap as I couldn't wait till Monday morning for our minders to take my dirty laundry.

After chatting a little bit and agreeing on a cycling expedition that we would embark on together on Monday, I thanked him and left him for my quarters.

Later on, in the warmth of my room and having washed and freshened up, my over active mind predictably took me back to Oom Dries' kind offer, and the concerned look he had on his face. Would I have done the same? Would I have offered my living quarters, "my home" in many respects, as a refuge to anyone that needed shelter and respite from the rain? 

My room was just a few doors away from Oom Dries’, but he surprised me  by how when he saw me drenched in the rain, he didn't ask why I wasn't in my own room and all sorts of questions; no, without asking anything, he simply offered me shelter and refuge. He acted very much like the father of the prodigal son who, when he saw the son approaching home in his stinking, raggedy and soiled clothes, he didn't ask the son any questions as to where he had been and what he had done with his riches. No, he simply embraced him and welcomed him home!

I recently read a blog on www.garythomas.com where the bestselling author, Gary Thomas, blogs about visiting a pastor’s home with his wife for counselling during a troubled time in his marriage. He describes how the visit made him feel they had come to an “oasis”. Gary then challenges Christians, particularly Christian couples, to live their lives such that those finding themselves in trouble, turmoil and hurt can find it easy to run for shelter and refuge in the company of such couples (I suppose the same applies to singles).

Ever since I read that blog post and when I stood drenched in rain at the door of my elderly colleague, I have been thinking hard about my own personal life – can my life come close to being an oasis?

When Oom Dries warmly opened his door for me to go in it was as though in that moment I was also being asked, can you do the same? “Livhu, don’t you also want to be an oasis? Or perhaps provide that shelter from the rain?” Food for thought…

The Heart of Boaz, the Tenacity of Ruth (Part 3)

Because of the kind of work my father does, our family has had to move around a few times. I know very well, the challenges of packing and unpacking. Challenges of adjusting to different environments. In fact, I am at the moment plying my trade in a foreign land and let me just say it's no picnic. It requires, no it demands, a constant shifting of mind-sets.

Ruth finds herself in a slightly similar but more challenging position. She has left everything behind and is now living in a foreign land, with no husband or children. She's a young widow living with her mother-in-law who has also lost her husband. But let's leave Ruth and focus on our man.

There are two meanings for the name Boaz. One is "swiftness", the act of being quick, or being prompt. The other one, which is applicable to our story is this here- "strength is within him". I'm getting excited already. But hang with me for a second, I'll make it quick.

Okay, now there is something special about a man who has seen. Old Boaz wakes up one day, and just like any other, he goes to his field (a farm perhaps?) to oversee the work of his harvesters. On arrival at the field, he greets them, and they greet back. And just then...... he sees her. (Should I pause here and let this simmer a bit....?). He saw her!!

Ruth, had woken up that morning, and told her mother-in-law that she was going to pick up leftover grain in a field. She goes to a field and asks the overseer if she can pick up whatever they leave behind.

I don't see a woman who woke up with an intention to impress anyone, least of all a potential suitor. No, she woke up and put on her work clothes, suitable for field work. The Bible says "She came into the field and she remained there from morning till now (when Boaz arrived) except for a short rest in the shelter.” In other words, she wasn't there to play. And she was probably all sweaty and stuff.

But Boaz, this man of wealth and means, arrives at the field and just after exchanging pleasantries with his workers, he sees her and says, who is that?. In fact his actual words were “Who does that young woman belong to?” (Ruth 2:5 NIV). The King James Version (KJV) says he asked "....whose damsel is this?" Do you see what I'm seeing here? Of course you do!!

The question sought to find whose family she belonged to. Another interpretation is that he wanted to know her origins because she might have been dressed differently from the Israelite women. But another one is that he wanted to know if she was "taken".

He saw and noticed her in her raggedy dress and sweaty self. He saw her.

What was she doing that drew his attention? We don't know for sure. All we know is that she was behind the harvesters, picking up whatever they had left behind. But somehow she stood out for this rich man, such that he wanted to know more about her. She was different, set apart from the rest.

He asks about her, and they remind him about her story. Firstly, she's a foreigner. Okay, interesting, he might have thought. This might have been a different world from which we live, but in today's context, which is full of xenophobia, I'm not sure how her nationality would have played out for this love-story.

Secondly, what sticks out is that she's a widow. In other words, her heart has been broken. She might have a smile on her face, but her heart is scarred. She might even still be grieving and in pain.

But lastly, and mostly what would have made Ruth stand out for Boaz - she left everything behind to be here.

Boaz does an unusual thing - he approaches her (aren't you getting excited already? I am). Dude says to her, “My daughter, listen to me. Don’t go and glean in another field and don’t go away from here. Stay here with the women who work for me.". I kid you not!!! Those are Boaz's exact words. He doesn't want her anywhere else other than in HIS field. In other words, I don't want you to go next door anymore. I want you here. Bang!!

Oh but old Boaz is not done. I like this guy, he means business. In all fairness, Boaz was saying this with pure intentions because after hearing her story, about her past and struggles, he wanted to show her kindness. In addition to giving her permission to glean in his field every day, he tells her that water will be available to her. Water, a symbol of life and refreshment after a period of thirst and drought, will be given to this widow who's been working in the scorching heat.

Finally, he tells her, none of his man will lay a hand on her. In fact, before he even spoke to her, he had already had a word with them and told them that she's off bounds. She's been set apart, she is special. She shall not be touched!!

(This is truly deep. It's not just a case of a man being jealous about someone he considers precious and a rare find. No, the symbolism of it all is about how each of us is unique and special in God's sight).

She's obviously perplexed by all of this, and she asks: why me? What have I done to deserve such kindness? I know I have personally felt and asked the same with God when I felt so unworthy and undeserving of his kindness to me.

After he has said all this, something important and worth noting happens. The Bible says "Ruth..... bowed down with her face to the ground. She asked him, “Why have I found such favour in your eyes that you notice me—a foreigner?”. Firstly, she bowed down her down. There are probably some cultural nuances here that I'm not aware of, similar to how in many African cultures women cannot look older men in the eye. But this portion of scripture seems to point out to her being overwhelmed by this gesture of Boaz. And the second thing is that she raises the issue of her nationality - she is a foreigner. Similar to how we were also foreigners in relation to Israel and the covenant of Abraham.

But none of that matters to Boaz. Well, in fact it's her foreignness that makes her even more special. To Boaz, the fact that she left her mother and father, and all that she knew behind to go with her mother-in-law to a foreign land sets Ruth apart.

Just as you'd think he was done, he invites her over for lunch. (By the way, this is all happening on their first encounter neh - keep that in mind). He even gives her some roasted grain which I'm sure was a treat in those days. The Bible says "She ate all she wanted and had some left over." From a grieving, hungry widow to a woman who’s getting all sorts of attention and pampering.

But we're not done. Boaz gives his men further instructions. (Lunch must have been good). He tells the men to pull out extra stalks and leave them for Ruth to glean. Isn't that wonderful? Really, isn't that just wonderful?

But in all of this, what captures the essence of what is special about this whole encounter are Ruth's words to Boaz. She says to him, "You have put me at ease by speaking kindly to your servant—though I do not have the standing of one of your servants.” In other words, Boaz you could have been kinder to your other long serving servants. I am the least person you could have taken note of. I was right at the back, behind everyone, picking up leftovers. And to top it all, I’m a foreigner. I’m so unqualified to receive such kindness.

Boaz, looked past all that. After he had seen her, Boaz, he who has strength within him, this man of courage and compassion, approached the foreigner……

Next, we will wrap up this beautiful story - Ruth and Boaz are about to march into their destiny.

The Heart of Boaz, the Tenacity of Ruth (Part 2)

If I were sitting down somewhere by the roadside and watched the following scene happen as a spectator, I'm not sure what I would have been left thinking. One thing for sure, it would have been the most bizarre thing. So here goes:

Three women are walking down the road on a journey, carrying their earthly possessions. One of them is an old woman, and the other two are young beautiful ladies. They are walking on a dusty road when suddenly, the old lady stops. She starts talking to them, and they all start crying. The two young ladies respond, and they look like they're begging, pleading with the old lady. But the old lady is calm, and says a few more words. One of the young ladies hugs them (or maybe she only hugs the old lady) and turns back, she goes the other way. It is now just the old lady and one of the young ladies. The two talk some more, and they seem to be having a very intense discussion, crying and all. Then finally, they seem to reach some sort of consensus. The pleading stops, and they continue on their journey.

If I had been sitting down spectating all of this without necessarily hearing what was being said, I would have thought, "what on earth has just happened here???".

There is something truly amazing about this scene. I have played it out in my mind so many times and the more I do, the more I become thrilled by it. I know I have briefly mentioned this scene in Part 1, but I feel we should give it a revisit. We didn't do justice to it, so let's try again.

So Naomi's husband dies.  And just when she is getting used the pain of having lost her husband, her two sons also die. I have personally experienced death in my immediate family a few times, so I can somehow relate with how Naomi might have been feeling. It is the most debilitating thing. It saps you of every little ounce of energy you have.

So it is during her time of grief, that she hears that things had become better in Judah, her birthplace - the famine is gone. The irony of it is that she and her family had left Judah to escape possible death from the famine, only to find death waiting for them (bar Naomi) in exile, in Moab. After a while, the famine in Judah ends, there is some semblance of restoration, and food is now available. Suddenty, the prospect of going back there to her home, becomes appealing. I also imagine staying in Moab had become too much for her. She could no longer stay there. It had become just a bit too much for her – I think it had become a constant reminder of her loss. She needed change, even if it meant going back to her hometown.

So she says to her daughters-in-law, “Let’s leave this place. Let's go back to Bethlehem, to Judah my home”. I'm not too sure how they took this proposal from their mother-in-law. After all, Moab was their home.

But they go with her, and this is where my favourite scene happens:
they're on the road from Moab to Bethlehem. It is hot and dusty; their feet are all caked with the dust and the mood is absolutely sombre. The three widows are walking in silence - a woman with her two young recently widowed daughters-in-law. They're all deep in thought. The two young women are grieving the loss of their young husbands, but they're also thinking of a new life that awaits them in Bethlehem. What are they going to do? Who's going to fend for them? Will they adjust to the culture, the religion? What about their families? Will they ever see their folks again? Oh, and will they find love again? Will they again find comfort in the arms of other husbands?

So there must have been an air of uncertainty, compounded with grief and pain. Everyone is silent as they walk - all three are captured in deep thoughts.

But the mother-in-law has thoughts of her own. She must have been thinking “I have lost my loving husband. My sons are also dead. What have I done to deserve this? What terrible thing have I done, LORD? What will people say when I get back to Bethlehem? How am I going to face the world? I am weak; I don't know how I'm going to make it. Really, I don't. And LORD, what about these two girls? They're looking up to me, and I have nothing to offer them”.  She sees the pain in their eyes, and the uncertainly written all over their faces.

And she can’t keep quiet any longer, and I imagine her finally breaking the silence: “Girls, I can’t do this to you. I can’t take you away from the land you've known all your lives. I love you like my own daughters. And you have been so good to my sons; excellent wives you have both been. You have also been so kind to me. But I can’t take you away from everything that you know.”

“Look at you”, I imagine her continuing, “you are both young and beautiful. You have lives to live and your dreams are still fresh. Much as I love you, and much as you bring me warmth and comfort in my grief, I have to let you go”.

This shocks the two young ladies. How can Naomi even think about letting them go? They have known her for so long, and she has been so good to them. She’s treated them like her own daughters. Yes, their husbands are both gone, but she is still their family. “So no, Naomi, we are going with you” they cry. “We’re in this together. How will you return to Bethlehem with no family – no husband and no sons, or daughters-in-law. No, we will go with you.”

This becomes harder than Naomi thought it would be. These girls do not understand what it took for her to finally admit that she cannot remove them from their lives. “I really can’t do this to you girls. You really need to go back. This is much harder for me than it is for you. You’re the only family I have left, but I need to release you. I’m old now, and I do not have much to look forward to. But you, you both have so much to look forward to, so much to give. It's not that I don't want you to come with me. I just want you to be happy. In fact, I'd so like to see you happy, so much that I even want to see you remarried. Knowing that you have both found refuge in the arms of other husbands will be some much needed comfort for me.

At this, they all weep some more!!! They’re all hugging each other, weeping, BUT the three are crying for different things. Naomi is crying because she must let her daughters-in-law go - the only link she had with her departed sons. Orpah, is crying for something else: she is bidding goodbye to her mother-in-law, the woman who has been so good to her. The mother of her dearly departed husband - her only living link to him. BUT, there is Ruth, the unrelenting Ruth, who is crying for something else. I love Ruth!!

                                                                                Okay, let me get a hold of myself.

So finally, Naomi’s argument convinces Orpah. It makes sense to her. What’s there for her in Bethlehem? Is she going to live the rest of her live tending to her mother-in-law? She realizes that this is actually much more difficult than she thought. She had not applied her mind to this. So she decides the best thing to do for herself - she turns and walks back home.

Naomi then turns to Ruth. "Look at Orpah", she says. She’s going back home, to her people and to her old life. “Why aren’t you going with her?” she says, with tears in her eyes. They both look at Orpah. She’s chosen to go back to her gods, to her people, to her old way of doing things. She's not ready to march into new territory, new avenues. She’s not ready to embrace a new world. She chooses to go back to familiarity.

And then we finally get to see what Ruth was crying for. We get to see the beauty of her heart. It is here that her amazing character emerges - we get to witness the tenacity of this young woman, Ruth. She emerges not only as a caring and kind woman determined to be there for the mother of her deceased husband, but she also emerges as a woman of great resolve and determination. She emerges being a woman who knows what she wants. She is staunch, yet humble. She is persistent, but also gentle.

She is facing the uncertainty of what Bethlehem, her new home, brings her.  She was given an opportunity to turn back to a life she’s probably comfortable with, a life which might be more predictable and reliable than her new one and she watched her sister-in-law going back to this more familiar life. But Ruth makes an unprecedented move – she chooses the road less travelled. In one paragraph, she makes a statement that will ring through the ages. She says to her mother-in-law:

“Don’t urge me to leave you or turn back from you.

Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay.

Your people will be my people and your God my God”

I’m sorry, I can’t get over this declaration by Ruth. Something about it makes you sit down and pause for a second. What is amazing about this statement by Ruth, is not only that she is refusing to give up on her mother-in-law; it’s not that she is showing her astounding compassion for a woman she has come to love so dearly. No, what is most breath-taking for me is that she is refusing to turn away from her destiny. She displays amazing courage by going against the grain, and declares that she will march on to a world she does not know.

It would have been perfectly understandable and acceptable for Ruth to join her sister-in-law, Orpah, going back home. It would have made sense. But the only thing about turning back like Orpah did is that she would have walked into the sunset and we would have never heard anything else about her again. She would most probably have left no mark in history, other than she would have remarried and lived a nice comfortable life with her new husband.

But no, not Ruth. Ruth makes an astounding decision. She is not letting Naomi go alone. She, unlike Orpah, decides to march on to this new territory, no matter how scary it might have been.

In the final analysis, what makes Ruth's decision overwhelmingly humbling is this bold declaration here: "your people will be my people and your God my God". What she is saying here is, not only does she want to be with Naomi, but she is also prepared to change whatever needs to be changed in order to embrace the new. She is letting go of her gods and embracing a new One. She is leaving her old life and taking a bold step of building a new one.

How many would have made such a decision? How many would have been so bold as to say, I’m ready to leave everything behind and embrace the new. Okay, let me ask this differently; how many would have been ready and bold enough to say I am ready to let go of my old self and to become a new me?

Ruth chose to take the road less travelled, with all the uncertainties that it presented. What I love about her is that she did not do it for the possibilities of making a better life in a foreign land. She just chose a new way, untested and untried, because the time and the season called for it.

At the risk of being preachy, I can't resist but ask: if your "season" demanded that you change everything, your surroundings, your life, and your way of doing things, would you? If your season demanded you let go of everything you knew, and march on to unchartered territory, would you? I mean, we change the way we dress, what we do and how we do things when seasons change; when winter becomes spring. Why not apply the same principle when it comes our spiritual lives, careers etc? Would you be ready to let go of the old and embrace the new when the season called for it?

Ruth made an unpopular decision of willingly and consciously changing her circumstances, a decision that  would later make her a channel through which history was made. In Ruth, I am learning the power of remaining true to my belief and conviction. I love Ruth.

I’m sorry, I was supposed to talk about Boaz on this post, BUT this woman, Ruth...!!!

Okay, enter Boaz…… (let’s explore him in the next post).

 Picture taken from commons.wikimedia.com

The Heart of Boaz, the Tenacity of Ruth (Part 1)

The story of Ruth and Boaz is most captivating.

I am sold. Boaz is my main man! And Ruth, well, what more can be said of her? A power couple, I think. If you hang with me for a minute, you’ll get to see why………….

Few men are known or remembered for the women they marry. Not many are known for their marital choice. It is normally the other way round - a woman will be known for the man she marries. But in this story, we get to meet a powerful man, who if it were not for his choice of a woman, we would probably know very little about. But before I rave about Boaz, let’s go back a little bit and give his story some context.

So there’s a man named Elimelek. He has a wife, Naomi (beautiful name), and two sons, and they all live in Bethlehem. In the passing of time, drought hits their land, and this pushes the small family of four to move to the land of Moab. The couple’s sons are still bachelors when the family migrates to Moab. And it is here, in Moab, that the two sons find themselves two lovely local (Moabite) women.

During the 10 years of living in Moab, tragedy strikes the family. All three men die. We do not know the causes of the deaths, or whether they all died around the same time. All we know is that first died the father, and the two sons followed. The sons leave no children behind. And that’s the tragedy of life - a woman is left without a husband. Her deceased sons leave her with two young wives.

The matriarch makes a difficult decision – she is going to go back home, and face the world she had left behind. She and her husband with their two sons left their home with the hope of finding a better life in exile – in Moab. But here she is, coming back with no husband or son. In a sense, she is coming back poorer than when she left. I think one of the reasons why I admire Naomi is her tenacity to face life head-on. Whatever the town will say when she gets back, she will face it. Be it, scorn, pity, shame or even sympathy, she’ll face it.

On the way back with her two daughters-in-law, she says to them: “Listen girls, I’ve got nothing to give you. You married my sons, but they’re both dead now. And look at you, you’re still young and have lives ahead of you. There are no prospects for me that I’ll get married again, but that doesn’t apply to you. Now go back home to Moab, to your families, you might get lucky and find men who would marry you”. She is, in today’s context, giving them her blessing to move on with their lives. She’s a very realistic and kind woman, this Naomi. I love her.

One of them, Orpah, accepts this blessing. She turns back and goes home and we hear nothing about her again. The other, Ruth, makes a bold move – “not a chance, I’m not going back. Let’s not argue about this, I’m going with you. Husband or not, I’m going with you. Foreign as your country might be, I’m sticking by my decision”, and it is here that she utters those famous words – “where you go, I will go. Where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God my God”. {I pause and take this in - wow}. Now I love Ruth.

Naomi can’t counter such staunchness and determination from her daughter-in-law. Ruth knows what she wants.

Anyway, they arrive back in Bethlehem with very little in terms of possessions, and it is here that we get to meet our man.

Boaz, it is said, was a man of means – he was rich. He owned land and had workers tilling his land. Our first experience of Boaz is when he arrives at the field. He is a powerful man – rich, with authority. He arrives to oversee how the workers are doing, and he impresses me with how he interacts with his workers. He greets the harvesters, “The LORD be with you!” he says to them. “The LORD bless you”, they respond.  (Such beautiful exchanges!!!).This was probably a normal way of greeting in those times, but it somehow gives me an impression of a man who is powerful, yet full of humility and grace.

It so happens that on this particular day, Ruth had gone to harvest some left-over grains from Boaz’s field so that she could feed herself and her widowed mother-in-law. For one or another reason, Boaz notices her. I’ve read some review that believes that this might have been love at first sight. I don’t know and I’m not sure what about her he saw, but she stood out. Maybe it was because she was all alone, picking up grains left behind by the harvesters. Whatever the reason, he noticed her.

And note that he noticed her before he knew anything about her.

He asks about her, who she is and so forth. They tell him of her little history – she is a young widow who refused to let her widowed mother-in-law come back from exile alone. She is a woman who left her home, her place of birth, and followed her mother-in-law to a foreign land, thereby embracing a new life and people, and to serve a foreign God.

I think this is where he really sits up and takes a closer look.  For most men, this would probably have been where it all stopped.  A turn-off, if you will. “Nah, she’s got a history”. Perhaps she might have even appeared to be a little intimidating to other men. “What woman leaves her people, where she has prospects of remarriage, but goes to a foreign land with her widowed mother-in-law? Nah, she’s too attached to her mother-in-law”

No, not Boaz. Boaz is, in fact, impressed with Ruth and develops compassion for this lady. So enthralled by her history, and humanity that he goes to her and they have their first recorded encounter. And thus begins a love-story that will change the course of Christian history…..

My next post will show why I admire Boaz……

"I'm Free", I think

I asked, Billy, one of our drivers, to drive me to a meeting at our client’s offices. When driving back, I asked him if he thought it would rain in the late afternoon – I want to go for a jog. (It’s been raining every single day for the last couple of weeks). I’m putting on some weight, I complain to him. I must go for a run.

At first he couldn't make out what the word rain is, or maybe he just misheard me. I repeat, but this time I translate “rain” into the local language, Lingala, as the word happens to be the same as in my language, Tshivenda, as well as other South African languages. “Mvula, do you think it’s going to rain”, I rephrase the question, pointing to the sky. He’s suddenly impressed that I know Lingala, until I tell him that the same word occurs in my language as well, also in reference to the rain. This does not kill his excitement and fascination nonetheless, that our languages have similarities.

He then responds to my question, and speculates that it might just rain. He starts stroking his belly and complains that his weight gain is even more serious and of a concern than mine. I tease him by saying he’s been eating a bit too much these days, “the company is paying you well” I tease. He disagrees, obviously, and offers a more compelling explanation for his weight gain: “no, is because I’m free. No problems”  

African cultures are very similar, more so the little behavioural nuances and our philosophies on different things. Ever since I arrived in the DRC earlier this year, I have noticed many mannerisms and way of human interactions that I can easily attribute or match with how we do things back home. Like when a lady colleague of mine comes into the office and greets me, she clasps her hands in that traditional way of greeting I know only from back home in Venda. When I come back from leave in South Africa, my Congolese colleagues will ask me how everyone is back at home, if the family is doing well (a family they know nothing about, or even know exists). That’s how we do it in Africa, and South Africa (tongue in cheek, Mr President). When we greet and ask you how you are doing, we ask in the plural – “Le kae?”, how are you and yours doing?" because you represent a collective. You’re not your own – you belong to a community, so we're therefore also concerned about those you represent, which is why we ask how all of you are doing. Not just you the individual.

Anyway, back to the fascinating topic of weight. Sometime last year, an elderly colleague of mine, back in South Africa, suddenly realized that I had put on a lot of weight (this is before my weight loss which I will talk about some other time), she started to quiz me why I’d decided to let myself go. She asked if I’d gotten married which apparently is the reason we men, oh and women alike, put on weight. After having answered “no” to a series of questions as to why I’d gained weight, she concluded: “okay, pelo e tshweu neh”, Sesotho which when directly translated means “your heart has whitened or your heart is white”.  This denotes that your heart is at peace, you’re happy.

Equally, when you shed off some weight, be prepared to answer a litany of questions about what is ailing you, physically or psychologically. You can’t just lose weight for the sake of it. No, there must something. I've had friends boldly declare that “there’s something you’re not telling us” – because of my weight loss. And no, they weren't referring to some secret diet plan that I am selfishly keeping to myself. No, this something is implied to be a sickness I have not disclosed to them, which should explain my weight loss.

So your weight is somehow a barometer of your happiness. Nice.

So when Billy, my Congolese colleague, confidently justified his weight gain by saying it’s because “I’m free, no problems” I knew what he meant. Blame the weight on happiness. But to be fair, he did finally concede that maybe a little bit of over-indulgence on the pap could have something to do with his weight gain.

There really was no point to this post to be honest with you. If anything, when those of you I know meet me and ask why there’s a sudden bulging of my waistline, I’ll happily offer Billy’s explanation: I’m free, no problems. That should settle it.