SINDISO
They came
into the chapel together, the old lady in a wheelchair, and an older lady with
an infant strapped to her back and a man whom I would guess to be in his
mid-thirties. They made their way to the front of the chapel where the lady in
the wheelchair, with considerable effort, stood up and maneuvered herself onto
the pew. Before the two associates were seated, a gentleman came to where they
were and bent over as to speak softly in the ear of the lady that was in the
wheelchair. There was a nod of her head and then she attempted to stand.
The scene
was one that held your attention and yet brought a number of questions to your
mind. For instance, why was the man attempting to assist the lady who was in
the wheelchair and now was struggling to stand up? What was the relationship
between the three or was the man just an individual who felt inclined to assist
the lady? The second lady, who was she and why did she have an infant on her
back; she obviously was too old for the child to be hers? She, as well as the
man, never attempted to assist the other lady but yet, they were all together
and acted as if they were going to stay together.
It all
seemed a little strange to me and, to be honest, started to raise in me a
little irritation. What was the matter with him? Did he not have at least a
little compassion for this obviously handicapped lady? It seemed to me that
there could have been a little compassion shown to her by either or both of
them. It was my first time to be among these people; I neither knew them or
anyone else in the congregation. My impulse was to go and offer to be of
assistance, but not knowing the situation my intuition told me to stay where I
was. So I sat and continued to watch the drama continue to unfold.
In response
to whatever the gentlemen that leaned over to talk to her said, the lady took a
walking cane from the man with her and struggled to her feet. Slowly, and with
much effort the lady shuffled in front of the pew until she reached the end of
it and to a position that was directly in front of me. As she turned to sit
down, I could then see clearly that her right side was partially paralyzed and
her right foot was turned such that she walked on the outside of the foot. Her
right arm and hand was held such that you had the impression that they were
useless to her. When she attempted to walk, she was only able to lift her foot
high enough to allow it to slide along the floor.
The first
sign of compassionate service to her only came after she was again seated. It
was then that the man kneeled down and began to put a shoe on the crippled
foot, which had apparently came off as she made her way to her new seat. He did
so with gentleness and tenderness that indicated that he cared deeply for this
lady.
That was the
last I saw of any of the trio until the next day when we held a workshop in the
same building as the chapel. There came the man who had helped the old lady. He
introduced himself as Sindiso. It is standard that we ask those who attend our
workshops to introduce themselves and tell us why they were there. I was
particularly interested to hear him because of the happenings of the previous
day. He stated his name and said he was from Cape Town, South Africa. My mind
immediately thought, Cape Town, why are you in Sada, South Africa which is 400
– 500 kilometers from Cape Town? Furthermore, Sada is nothing but a spot on the
map compared to Cape Town.
So, I asked,
“Why are you in Sada?”
“I am here
to take care of my mother,” he said.
“You were
raised in Sada and then move to Cape Town for work?” I asked.
“No, I was
raised in Cape Town by my mother who lives there”, he responded.
“So your
mother got sick and you brought her here to Sada to take care of her; is there
better medical facilities here than in Cape Town?” I asked quizzically.
“No, she was
in the hospital here but they were not taking good care of her so I came back
to give her the care she needs,” he said.
I could see
that the riddle was much too complicated to resolve in class and his ability to articulate answers that did not
bring more questions, was not adequate to help me solve the riddle, so I moved
on to the next person. But, throughout the day, my mind kept coming back to him
and to his story. I soon came to understand that he was an intelligent individual.
I learned that he had matrixed (graduated from high school) and had held a
number of significant jobs. In response to my question as to why he was in the
class, he indicated that he was there to learn – learn whatever we could teach
him. He liked to learn, to improve himself. But the question kept coming back to
my mind about his mother; is the woman here his mother or the one in Cape Town
he referred to as his mother, his mother, or are they the same person?
The answer
to my dilemma came later the next day when he asked if we would take him home
and talk to his mother about a matter we had previously discussed with him in
private. We said it would be a privilege to do so. My mind was reeling with
anticipation of finally being able to solve the riddle.
Upon
arriving at his home, my eyes quickly scanned the house and yard. It was a
typical house and yard found in a township. The yard was devoid of grass, just
bare dirt. Scattered around the yard were a number of trees, now barren because
it is winter time here. Sitting in front of a small satellite shack was a
washtub with clothes soaking in it. There was a tree stump, partially dug
around in an attempt to remove it, located near a rickety wire entrance
gate. The house was a small cinderblock
home painted pale pastel yellow so common in the townships.
The rooms in
the house were small; maybe 3-4 meters square with few furnishings except the
kitchen did have a refrigerator and electric stove (a rarity in the townships).
We waited in
the kitchen area while Sindiso went to get his mother. After what seemed a long
time, she came from another room into the living area. She was walking slowly
with the aid of a walking cane; each step was made with considerable effort and
yet, it seemed like she moved with more ease than she had a couple of days
previously when we saw her at church. As she reached to shake my hand, it was
with the left hand; the right arm noticeably immobile. As I shook her hand, I
was astonished that it was so cold and said so to her. She said, “I was washing
clothes outside.” (The day was cold and overcast and hot water for washing
clothes is not even a consideration in the townships). But, she also had pride
as she expressed this was the first thing she’d been able to help out with.
We explained
to her briefly, that there was a financial program that would help her son to
get an education and training in the work he wanted. She looked at him and
asked him in her tongue what it was he wanted to study and he told her Physical
Therapy. There was question and concern in her eyes and though I could only
understand pieces of the conversation (conducted in Xkosa), I understood that
she was concerned that he would leave her. However, he explained that he
thought he could do the schooling without leaving her and there was great
relief in her eyes and she said, “I want what is good for you and this sounds
good for you.”
The next day
when I was alone with him, I asked him who this woman was he called, “his mom”
and who the woman was in Cape Town he called “his mom?” He explained that in
his culture, members of a family often lived with extended family and that he,
at a very young age, went to live with his aunt in Cape Town and has always
called her “mom.” While living there, his biological mother had a stoke that
left her partially paralyzed. The local medical facility was not helping her to
regain use of her leg and arm and as a consequence she was getting
progressively worse. He felt it was his responsibility to come to Sada and take
care of her. So I asked, “Why do you feel obligated to leave your “mom” who
raised you, to leave your job, and life you had in Cape Town to take care of
someone who abandoned you years ago?” As if explaining to a young child, he
said, ”She is my mother, she did not abandon me, she loved me and knew that her
sister could give me a better life than she could. She did it for me,” he said.
“They are both my mother and I love them both.”
He continued
to explain that the local medical facility was not making his mother do
anything to build up her strength again and, as a consequence, she was
continually getting weaker so he came home to take care of her. “If you help someone too much,” he said, “they will
not get stronger, but weaker. Each day she is getting better because I make her
do things for herself.” He works several hours a day messaging her muscles and
working exercises with her limbs.
I thought
back on that Sabbath Day I observed them in Church when he just stood there
watching her struggle to move and then I understood that although the tendency
was to reach out and help, the love that he had for her prohibited him from
doing so. I said to myself, that is exactly what we strive to teach in our
workshops of Self-Reliance, we each have to learn to take care of ourselves –
to use the resources the Lord has given us. The process is not always easy; in
fact by design, they rarely are so that we will grow to be independently
stronger.
Our last day
we were in Sada, Angie asked if we could take a picture of him with his mother.
With a broad smile, he with gratitude agreed. When we arrived at his home, his
mother was dressed in her best and waiting for us. As she walked out of her
house, using her cane, it required her to negotiate two minor steps. A lady who
was there with us, moved as if to give his mother some assistance down the
steps. Quickly, Sindiso told her, “Don’t even think of it.” Looking at me he
said, “We have to let her do it herself so that she over comes fear and becomes
stronger.” It reminded me of a saying of the Lord when He said, “My grace is
sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me, and have faith in me,
then I will make weak things become strong unto them.”
The picture
below shows Sindiso, his mother and grandmother (?) Is it really his
grandmother? (that is another riddle that was not unravelled).
