The reenactment began. Simphiwe watched from the edge of the pew… The boys, acting as Jesus’ guards and persecutors, whipped him with long, fresh-leafed, mango branches.
Setting the Pace for Change [freestyle: political rally]
The weekend before South Africa’s most recent election, being touted as the most important since Mandela’s 1994 rise to power, Acornhoek’s streets were bustling and the APC – one of more than sixteen political parties – held their final rally.
The Blyde River Canyon [sanctuary]
The Blyde River Canyon, where the waters of joy and sorrow flow, has become my spiritual center, of sorts. My mother when I am missing home. My Canyon de Chelly. It is where I go to think about the triangle of my past, present, and future.
Mati. [water]
Creek-kaw, Creek-kaw, Creek-kaw. The sound of a rusty blue water pump in a small farm-worker village can be heard for hours each morning.
The Old Selati Line [freestyle: railroad tracks]
Thirty minutes south of Hoedspruit’s main village centre and just a handful of kilometers from the farm, the old Selati railway line runs parallel to a border drawn on political maps in 1962.
All a Part of the Journey [airport]
Nine vehicles—six Land Rovers, two Sprinters, and my Prius—are parked in the small airport lot, waiting for the first flight of the day. They wait for tourists. I wait for my mother. Express (via New York, Dakar, and Johannesburg) from Chicago.
Impulsive. Unpredictable. Life. [downtown]
Water is flowing as fast as cash out of pockets. Life is one day at a time in Hoedspruit (or should I say, across Africa?).
Lerato: The Journey Itself [home]
From concrete and public transportation to bushveld soil and Land Rovers. Finding myself, my heart, and my home inside a small Lowveld village, the wide-open bush, and the soul of a trails guide.
