Thursday and Friday

Thursday was a work day. When +Steve eventually returned from the physiotherapist in Potch we set off south for Wolmeranstaad. We were paying a pastoral visit to a priest’s wife, Madiphoko Kgotle and her husband because her mother had just died. On the way we stopped to see St Paul’s Church which is in the township of Wolmaransstad, and which was very well looked after.

As we approached the house a tent had been erected on the road to give more cover for people coming to the house. The younger women were out the back cooking for all those who would be coming to the Memorial Service that afternoon: the men were sitting in one room – and I was an honorary man! – and the older women were in the bedroom, making tokens for the children to place on the grave. The custom is that the mattress is placed on the floor and one of the older women stays there to represent the family and receive condolences. It is also customary for various guilds from the Church to turn up and lead worship, with a sermon. While we were there the Christian Fellowship from the older brother’s work place arrived.

Friday +Steve and I set out very early to visit the village where he grew up and which he still calls home – Gaanalagte (sounds like Hanna- lakta). He was not born here, that village is quite some way away. When he was 7 the apartheid government moved black people into settlements. The chiefs were offered big houses and land – nothing like as productive as that from which they were removed, an everyone else was moved in to a small building and a tent. When they could, they built shacks and later brick houses. The Diseko family now have chickens which they sell to locals and in the markets.

We visited the church and saw the new floor, beautifully tiled, a project which Steve drove hoping to get other members of his peer group to help. But as always people thought it was a good idea but weren’t willing to come up with the cash. He also showed me the altar with its beautiful African nativity scene. We prayed together while we were still in the village.

On the way home we passed the road that he used to run down as 7 year old to get to his first school, and the maize storage granaries where his father worked. Before they were moved it was a cycle ride away. Afterwards he only got home once a fortnight on the bus. 

This was a very moving day!






Finally I couldn't resist this photo! This is the Methodist Church in Gaanalagate. Even Steve recognised it as being just like St James' Clayton!