From the Joberg Airport
Thirty US dollars gets you a lot in the Joberg airport. Sitting here in the "Premier Club" enjoying the free internet, free bar, and rich Corinthian leather (anyone?) seats. When I finish this, I will be enjoying my first shower since I left the US. (I did take a couple of baths, mom.) I am looking forward to being home.
I had a wonderful long weekend (Thursday-Tuesday) in the Olievenhaut-Bosh section of Centurian, which is where Patrick lives. I stayed with Patrick until Sunday night when I began my two night stay at a neighboring church member's home because Patrick was taking off to go back to school. I've been walking around the neigborhood with some new friends of about my age. I am the first white person that most people have ever seen walking the streets there. Many white people drive through to pick up or drop of "domestic workers," but few to none actually put their feet to pavement. I had many exciting and interesting conversations with people who were just too curious to stay silent.
The hospitality of Patrick and his friends has been out of this world. I have been practically waited on hand and foot. No matter how much I insist, I can't get away with doing any work. Those who know me well can probably guess that I insisted for about 3 seconds before saying "Okay, well thanks." (In those Mary/Martha sermons, I've never felt convicted of working too hard.) One thing that nobody minds, though, is if I give a little money. So I did a lot of that in small amounts and useful gifts. What is for me a couple of meals at Taco Bell is for someone else a months worth of mealy meal pooridge, the staple carbohydrate among South Africa's poor.
Anyway, that shower is calling louder and louder. Or maybe my smell is just growing vocal cords (or chords?). But this place has been great to me and God has been with me all the way. The other night, Patrick and I were stopping at a place to grab a "cold drink" of Coke when we miscommunicated and the keys became locked in the car. Right next to where we parked was a local bar with tons of drunk people. Patrick's cell phone was locked in with the keys. We looked for hangers, etc. While out in the tall grass of the highway looking for a hanger, a man with no pants (not kidding!!) and a face full of blood came up to me. He had just been brutally robbed. Not too keen on being the only white guy (read "rich guy") around with robbers on one side and drunks on another and a long dark dirt road between us and Patrick's house, a new urgency came over me to figure out how to escape this situation and just as I began to almost panic a little (come on, I'm still a tough manly guy here) one of Patrick's friends rolls up in a similar Mazda. Patrick says the key will open the door. "No way" I said. So the guy gets out and tries his key and to my surprise, the trunk opens. He pushes in the back seat and opens the doors while I run into the market to buy paper towel and a large bottle of water for the robbery victim. Anyway, I was worried and I felt that God stepped in. I also felt that it's not so great that someone can open a trunk with the wrong key. The robbery victim left with a couple of generous ladies. Patrick and I had a great ride home, laughing and expressing all the various emotions and thoughts that we had.
More later. Shower now.
Ryan Kellermeyer
p.s. - sorry for all the parenthetical phrases. Not sure where they came from.
1 comment:
Can't wait to hear more, Ryan.
Sleep well in your own bed, when you finally get there.
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