“You look like your mind is wandering.”
I bristled with irritation. What was the point of saying that? With a heavy backpack slung on one shoulder, my arms dripping with my belongings and a plate of Swazi African food, my eyes searched for an empty lunch table to answer Cliff’s call from Singapore.I turned the corner.
“Gee,” I muttered to myself, rolling my eyes. There was nothing I hated more than small talk in a busy day. Clearly, he was in my way. I honed into a quiet spot.
Finally!
Being six hours apart was hard.
“Papa, come!” My children’s voices bounced in the background.We ended our short catch-up.
Scooping up my belongings, I moved to a table with my colleagues. I tucked the irritating server behind the back of my head, my mind still on Cliff. But there he was again! What now!
“Is this yours?”
There in his hands, lay my cell phone. I gasped aloud.
Before coming to Africa, I’d undergone two weeks of compulsory intensive training- what to do if I got kidnapped, held hostage, mugged, raped even. What not to eat- salad, yoghurt, raw foods. I stared at my plate of raw lettuce, Emasi (fermented milk curds, a Swazi dish).
Later that afternoon, I would be gifted with a bucket of fermented milk curds by my team lead.
I stared at my cell phone. Back at his face. Smiling, glowing, ever so helpful.
My face burned.
I wharfed the rest of my food down.
Face flushed, still, I scoured the entire place before I found him again, still smiling, dishing food out at the cafeteria. “What’s your name?”
“Sandile,” he beamed.
“Thank you so very much, Sandile.”
I learned one thing that day- that for all the prejudices we’ve been ingrained with against others, to protect, to defend, to guard ourselves… the exceeding grace, exceeding kindness of this beautiful people has overturned so much of what I’ve been taught, has disarmed me completely.
Truly, if we all increased in grace, in integrity, and slowed down a little, our world would be a better place.
Thank you, Sandile.
