And on a supernatural note…

Spiritually, things have really opened up here this past week, in quite a dramatic fashion. It’s been quite a week. First thing that happened was on Tuesday when we received reports that one of the young Zulu guys had been taken ill suddenly, seemingly having had a stroke. I went down with my car to take him to the Drs, as he’s a good friend of mine. But on arrival I realised that this was something spiritual and he didn’t need a Dr, he needed prayer.
Pretty much all the Zulus on site gathered as well as our director and I to see what could be done. Most of the dialogue was in Zulu and I could only understand about half of what was said or was happening. It seemed he’d had some sort of vision about this site. He didn’t go into too much detail then, but later told me some of what he’d seen.
I was desperate to kick out any manifesting evil spirits, having had lots of training for it but little practice, but it was difficult to get in there as we were in the presence of a Zulu pastor and several other Zulu Christians. In any case, I held onto the wooden cross I carry around with me and prayed constantly in tongues for the whole duration of the encounter.
In the end we prayed outside the building. The guy had managed to get up and walk around, previously he’d claimed not to be able to move or see. During the prayers however another Zulu guy ran into the building screaming. It was all happening down there. Confusion still reigns a little bit.
Zulus are a superstitious lot. That’s why sangomas (traditional healers) make so much money, and it’s a gruesome business. This whole episode freaked a lot of people out. I wasn’t very freaked out or scared, in a country full of superstition and witchcraft I’m just surprised we’ve not seen more of this kind of thing around.
In any case, the conversations in the office afterwards have been good, with people more open to talk about spiritual stuff. And the winds of change are blowing. You can’t just ignore it when evil spirits manifest themselves.
If you understand what I’m going on about please pray for continued protection for us here and for wisdom for me in knowing what to do and when. It’s been an amazing week for me, I’ve never prayed so much or sang so much in worship. God is greater than any pathetic evil spirit. Jesus has won the victory and the devil now stands condemned. The power vested in me by the fact that I’m saved through the blood of Jesus means that I have authority over ALL spirits in the name of Jesus. There is nothing to fear as He that is in me is greater than he that is in the world. Nothing can stop the will of God and He will be glorified in this place.
Following these incidents, I’ve been in discussion with the deliverance and healing team from my church. They can’t just come in as a ‘quick fix’, more has to happen. Pray for guidance and open doors to come and work here, the devil might mean all this for bad, but God can and will turn it around for good, if we allow Him to. Pray that more people would turn and give their lives to Jesus, only by doing this can they truly be delivered and saved from further interference on the scale we’ve seen this week.

Interesting that this should happen at the very moment I make my decision to leave soon, and that the main people affected should be close friends of mine. (That’s not to say that people should get worried and avoid me from now on ;-) !!)

Future plans

Once again, it’s a period of blog drought followed by several blog entries all at once. Nothing can be done, such is the unpredictability of African life!

A week ago I made the final decision after a period of much soul-searching and prayer. Not long after coming back here from the UK I sensed once again a call from God to pursue ordination in the good old Church of England. I made a few enquiries here and there and it seems the best way to follow this call is to apply from the UK for selection (and all the other hoops to jump through on the way) and to return sooner rather than later.

And so it was that I was considering an earlier return to the UK. But then I started having doubts and, just like Jonah (the prophet, not the Young Zulu Warrior choir member) I set out in completely the opposite direction from Ninevah… But the strange thing about running away from God is that He makes you miserable and soon enough I was back in confusion-ville and heading to a ministry evening at church which proved very helpful for my thinking.

One of the people who prayed for me asked me what my 5-year plan was. Interesting question, easy answer (for me at least) – get married, have children, establish a speaking ministry with maybe a book published. Then he asked me what I’m doing about achieving that. It was a crucial moment.

I don’t think I’m coming back to the UK on a whim, I’ve taken advice from various wise people and everyone concurs on the fact that it’s time to come back to the UK (at least for the next few years). Just to confirm all of that, I received prophetic ministry a few days later. A lot of good stuff, nearly all of it linked in some way to leaving. Good, especially as those people praying knew pretty much nothing except my name.

And so I shall be returning to the UK in early February, enough time to finish up and hand over my projects from here and to see Christmas celebrated well and back to school up and running. My main focus is to get Ingcindezi preschool kitchen and new classroom all ready and finished off for the start of the new academic year in mid-January. Then I can leave.

When you make the right decision with God, He confirms it over and over, and the reaction from people I’ve told already has been fantastic. Everyone seems genuinely pleased that I’m coming back to the UK, probably Leamington again for the moment, whilst I do my application. People here, Zulus especially, are less pleased, but I’ll be back to visit, and in the meantime I’ll be speaking out for them wherever I go. You can’t come some place like this and make such good friends with people and not talk about them to others. I’m really at peace about coming back, I can now enjoy the last few months here with the children.

I've found somewhere to upload photos!!! ;-)

The New Chief and Old Chief are escorted down by the Counsellors, Chiefs and others, including the Young Zulu Warriors.

Me and my Zulu girl-friends...

Here are a couple of photos from the Inauguration of the New Chief. (so you can see how cool I look dressed as a Zulu!)

Maphepheteni

This is the creature that they make the tops of shields from - wild cat apparently.
Me and Mdu's younger brother (whose name I've temporarily forgotten!)

Before the joys of rugby I spent a few hours in the Valley near Inanda Dam on Saturday afternoon. My friend Mdu wanted to visit his family and so I drove him down there. It's a stunningly beautiful drive down the mountain towards a lake that would not look out of place in N.Italy next to Lake Garda.

Mdu's family live along the banks of the River Duzi, famous for a marathon boat race once a year (not sure when?) and you have to cross the river (thankfully there's a road bridge) and then drive along the river and then down a track right up close to the river before descending through a field to get to their place. Last time I apparently drove 'too fast', so now I let him drive the last bit, which meant I was free to take photos. (again there are loads more on facebook).

Once we got there, Mdu took the kids off to the store and I was left with his family, which was interesting as the majority of them don't speak English. One of his younger brothers, Khaye, speaks good English so he made sure I was being looked after. Bit of an awkward moment when they brought out a bottle of coke for me to drink. I haven't had coke since 2003 as it makes me ill. Took me a little while to get them to understand that. (Ngiyaxolisa kodwa uma ngiphuza icoke, ngiyagula kakhulu.... ) check out my Zulu ;-) Eventually I managed to get some pineapple fanta (still full of sugar, but no caffeine!)

In any case, their family are big on making shields and traditional costume and they do this in the rondavel where they entertain visitors. So I got a great insight into how one makes these things. The animal that they use for the tops of the shields (Chris L - this is what's on your shield! - you wanted to know) is a small wild cat that they catch locally. There were several skins hanging up to dry. The skins that are used for drums were being stored in a pond down by the river and while we were down there, the wife of one of the brothers came down with a rake and hoiked them out. What a smell! Pond-soaked animal skins...

They have their own beach down by the river. You can walk across the river to the other side but I refrained. And I'm glad I did as I later found out that this river is rather polluted. I imagined it would be, it's used for many different purposes not just canoe marathons. The family don't wash white clothes in there, but I think that's the only thing that doesn't get put there!

Anyway, it was so nice to be in the middle of nowhere, to be surrounded by beautiful mountains, and to not hear any traffic. It was so tranquil and peaceful.

Rugby

I did watch the match on Saturday night. I felt I had to really although I'm not a huge rugby fan.

The atmosphere here was hyped up, to say the least. I'd spent the afternoon at a friend's house in the valley (away from all rugby talk!) and we popped into Spur (S.Africa's favourite steak house) for food on the way to watch rugby at church. The TVs were already on and EVEN SPUR was closing at 8pm on a Saturday night so that the staff could watch...

We watched the first half at my church on big screen, a very well-attended event. They'd had a braai just before. The room was full of 120 S.Africa supporters and me. I shouted 'come on England' at appropriate moments at a volume barely audible by mice...

My Zulu friend Mdu had never seen a rugby match before (he's a soccer boy) and was quite fascinated by the hype. But he concluded after a few moments that the game was 'a bit rough'... and he wasn't too bothered when we left at half time to get home.

The biggest joy of the evening was the N3. We passed 1 lorry and 2 cars on a normally hectic busy motorway. It was bliss! ;-)

I watched the rest of the game alone at home. Sorry for England, but hey, we did win last time so it's only fair to allow others a moment of glory. After the game the TV coverage went to various places around the country for 'how the people are celebrating' report. Durban was the funniest. The presenter got mobbed and you couldn't hear a word. So they switched cameras to a woman and the same thing happened to her. Then a random woman looking for her friend wandered into shot. It was classic botch-up television...

Amahle (aged 6) reminded me last night that South Africa had beaten England and that England were the losers. I thought I should maybe beat him at basketball for that comment, but then the nicer side of me kicked in and I allowed him to win. He does have a disadvantage in being about 3 ft 6...

Prayer letter

I've just sent out my latest prayer letter. Contact me if you didn't get it but want one...

Please pray in addition to this about my energy levels... you know when you get to that stage of not having any energy to care about things being discussed that it's time for a break..

I'm on weekend off now but haven't gone anywhere to stay cos my car has cost me too much this month in service fees and paying for new tyres...

But I'm sure that even at my house I can be refreshed. I need some fresh energy and inspiration. Everything is becoming tiresome. I'm going on holiday in December when my parents come out but right now it seems that even next weekend off is a long way off!

Having said I'm going nowhere I will be watching the rugby this evening, with Americans instead of South Africans. It's bad enough being in 'enemy territory' at this time, let alone having to watch it with them... Secretly I hope England win, then I can smile sweetly at everyone, but in reality I don't really care, I'm more of a football girl... and there's no chance that there would ever be an England - SA final for that!! ;-)

Inauguration of Nkosi Mlaba

Last Saturday the inhabitants of the Valley of Kwa Ximba celebrated a rare occasion – the inauguration of a new Chief. The new Chief’s father had been killed when he was small and his uncle has been serving as Chief until this one was old enough. Now, at age 28, he is ready to take on his designated role as Chief of a very large area of the Valley of 1000 Hills. These kind of events don’t happen very often and the King of the Zulus himself was present to do the deed.
We were privileged enough to be invited to join in the celebrations and the Young Zulu Warriors were invited to lead the escort of men down from the Chief’s house to the soccer ground where the big marquee was set up. They were also asked to perform after the ceremony, but due to reasons beyond their control they didn’t actually perform in the end.

The day itself was hot, with a thunderstorm brewing for later in the day. We had to be down there early. The ceremony was due to start at 10am, with the new Chief (Nkosi) being escorted down from his house at 8.45am. In reality, Africa time set in and the actual ceremony began at 12.30pm. The King didn’t arrive until about 11.30am and the Nkosi was definitely not arriving triumphantly at 8.45am, it was more like 10! One gets used to these timings and comes prepared to wait around.

All of our children over the age of 10 were invited and they had to opportunity to wear traditional Zulu dress. The boys wore skins – a kind of skirt, 2 calf bracelet things, 2 arm bands and a headband, all made from animal skins. It took Mdu about 7 hours to make 8 of these costumes up new on the day before. The girls wore black tops with beads and different skirts, all adorned with beads. They opted out of the ‘traditional’ costume of going topless. The majority of girls there did go topless though, as tradition states. Married women wear full outfits with many beads and great hats.

The Nkosi’s arrival was something to behold. He marched down from his house on top of the hill flanked by the out-going Chief and the Local Chiefs and Councillors. Just behind them came the Young Zulu Warriors and they were accompanied by all the other men of the area, some in traditional skins, others just with their shield and sticks. There were probably several hundred men escorting him down. At a short distance behind them came the girls and women, singing and dancing. It was quite a sight to see as they marched into the grounds, brandishing their sticks and shields and shouting victoriously.

Then the waiting began for the King to arrive. The rest of the Royal entourage were in place but it was still an hour or so before His Majesty King Goodwill Zwelithini turned up. And then we heard police sirens and looked up the hill that was in the distance and saw the police escort arriving. The King had maybe 8 police cars escorting him in. His car registration is ZK1 – nice. However this is obviously a state secret as when one of the Brits with me tried to take a photo with his phone he met with opposition from the police and was made to delete it immediately on pain of losing his phone…

A group of Christian guys (and one woman!) from the UK had visited earlier in the week and had been invited, so I spent the day with them. We got VIP passes which ensured us front row seats (although not in the raised seating section for the Chiefs and royal family) and entry to the dining tent for the customary beef curry afterwards. We also had access to the VIP toilets, but unfortunately they were locked. There was also a hospitality tent, which we later discovered was in fact the King’s tent and we’d just stolen his water… oops. He didn’t seem to notice thankfully so our heads remained on… The Brits thought this was the most amazing day and what an experience. Indeed, it’s not the kind of thing one can just walk into and they were very clever in picking their time to visit us so that they could take this experience away with them.

When the King was there and all was set we could proceed into the big marquee where there was a triumphant entry of the king, surrounded by the men and accompanied by a praise caller (who also works at the rugby and is a guy I’ve definitely seen on TV ads) who shouts out praises to the King as he enters. The guy is loud.

There then followed about 3 hours of Zulu, of which I understood about 10 words. I stood up when there should only be men standing, but the mistake was pointed out quickly to me and rectified. I carefully observed some of our girls outside chatting to local youth, unbeknown to them that I could see. I chuckled at the lack of stamina of the Brits, who are strangers to these ceremonies and were dozing off one at a time. I smiled sweetly and looked demure when I noticed the video camera was pointing straight at me. (I later regretted not watching the news on Sunday when I was on SABC1 and SABC2 news. Am trying to track down a copy for a souvenir.)

The actual inauguration took about 2 minutes. The King had a shiny sword and it looked like he knighted Nkosi Mlaba. I was later told by Zulus that his speech was good. He is a popular King with his people and you could tell. It seemed very entertaining and people laughed a lot. Except his first wife, she fell asleep. Probably heard that joke before.

After the ceremony we retired to the dining tent. The Brit boys went up to get some food and were in the process of getting their plates filled when someone realised that we had to wait until the King had been served in his tent, so the food was unceremoniously thrown back and they had to wait! But we didn’t have to wait long.

When the King had been escorted off, the VIPs went up to the Nkosi’s house where the real party was happening. I had to make a brief stop there to present a cake from our organisation, as my director was ill and unable to attend the event. The cake was well-received. I’d taken a couple of German volunteers with me to film the cake-handing over moment but they were more engrossed in the action outside the Chief’s house where the cows were being killed for food. I chose not to watch, I don’t need to see it to understand the brutality of how Zulus prepare their feasts. But the boys loved it!

These are the kind of days that make me really appreciate being here and in the position I find myself in. One can’t just walk into these events, you have to be invited and it’s always such a privilege to be invited to be a part of the local culture and tradition. It makes for very interesting conversations and broadens our minds as to what other cultures value and how they celebrate important events. The Zulus love having non-Zulus come too, not many white people go down into these valleys and so any that do venture down there (particularly if we have a soccer ball in the car!) are made to feel very welcome.