First impressions of South Africa – 17th August 2004

After a long night flight, containing very little sleep,  I could see from the flight map that we were getting close to Cape Town and sure enough, the captain came over the intercom to announce that we were beginning our descent. A shiver of excitement ran through me.

I was sitting in the middle bank of seats, so glimpses out of the window were briefly snatched when we made several turns on our approach to the runway.  I caught snapshots of rugged mountains, and a flat plain, with a wide expanse of ragged dwellings huddling together.  

Stiff and sore from a night in a cramped airline seat, we made our way off the plane, filling our lungs with African air – heavy with aircraft fumes, but revelling in being in a new country, on a new continent. Then through the airport we trudged wearily, waiting in long lines to go through passport control, and then waiting, waiting for our luggage to appear on the carousel. Not much different from any other big airport.

In the arrivals hall we were met by a smiley white haired little man, who ushered us outside into a steady drizzle, and on over to two white minibuses, which were our transport to our final destination.

We set off on our drive, and I greedily drank in the sights before me – glimpses of the back of Table Mountain, shrouded in cloud; the sprawling mass of corrugated iron that housed so many people in the Township of Khayelitsha; cows ambling by the side of the motorway; white ibis in the fields alongside Arum lilies.  I was very surprised to realise at this point that everyone else in the minibus, except the driver, was gently snoring! How could they sleep when there was so much newness to feast on?

Ahead of us rugged mountains almost barred our way, but the road snaked up steeply in a zigzag, giving us an amazing view back towards Cape Town looking over False Bay.  We then drove past baboons playing by the side of the road, before we slowed down, to turn off the main road. Off to our right there was another township, but in this one the shacks were constructed mostly from wood, rather than metal.  

As we descended into the valley, the houses became more sophisticated, made from breeze blocks. Soon we turned into a red dirt road and then into the church compound – Agapé Family Ministries.  Low wooden buildings were grouped in a rough L shape around a grassy area, where a group of about 30 happy children were playing.

One arm of the L was a row of class rooms and the bottom part was the church building which was to be our home for the next three weeks – a large hall, with four small bedrooms leading off it, each with bunk beds in.  

I sank wearily onto the bottom bunk, hitting the back of my head on the wooden frame, and the cold damp air of that room started to sap my excitement from me. What on earth was I thinking of, travelling all this way with twelve people I barely knew, to stay here for three weeks, in the depths of the South African winter, with no central heating, unreliable hot water?

But deep down, I knew Who had brought me here, although the why was as yet unanswered...