Sunday 5th February- All Saints, Khuma near Stilfontein

Father Leslie with George- who picked me up

I was picked up at about 7.20am  by Pule and George, and taken to their Church- All Saints Khuma, to be met by their Priest – Father Leslie.  A tall, elegant man who is principal of a school during the week and is, like most of the ordained ministers in Matlosane, self supporting.

Khuma is a township between Klerksdorp and Potchefstroom, the two largest towns in this area of the North West Province of South Africa.  It has about 100,000 residents and many of those in work, are employed in the local gold mines.  But as a number of them have closed as gold deposits run out, Khuma now has less income and so has a number of social problems… Not that you would sense that from the worship this morning!

Father Leslie greeted me warmly, and he agreed to do all the activities in the service which involved incense- a relief to me, as I was uncertain about using incense as well as using my few shaky words of Tswana (the local language).

The congregation’s welcome to me was warm and genuine, and their worship and singing both beautiful and moving.  Once the singing started, a  group of ladies used what I will call “clapping pads” (a bit like a boxing glove in texture- but rectangular in shape) to make a deep base drum sound, which kept the rhythm for our singing.  For good measure, there was also worshipful use of a referee’s whistle and a bell!  (Hard to imagine I know, but it all works fantastically)… by this stage there were about 200 people present.

As we knelt for the confession time in the service, there was a something deeply significant for me, as a white person, confessing sins together in a church in a black township of South Africa.   I haven’t got to the bottom of this yet, but I was aware at the time of something symbolic as we joined together. 

Not long after came a collection… which required no less than three joyful  songs to complete.  Children first, then youth, then women, then men all came to the front to place their gifts on the offering plate. The there was a freewill offering, when many people, came for a second time  to give once more.  The offerings we then taken to be counted before the end of the service.

We celebrated communion together, and it was a privilege to take part in this. Much of the liturgy was in English, but the responses from the congregation were in Tswana. I was able to use enough of my hastily learned Tswana to allow people to know which section we were on (or perhaps they knew the service better than me!)  I was glad of Father Leslie, giving a discrete hand to guide me through the sections which were not in English.  All received bread and wine in communion to remember Jesus and worship him.  It was from my experience- in reverence and with real thankfulness that everyone came to receive Holy Communion

After there were notices… and the amount of the money received in the offerings earlier was announced.  It was just short of a nice round number… and the church warden, said (I think) something like, “Come on folks! Let’s see if we can make it past the round number”  Another song, and the stewards walked up the aisle with a plate for any who wanted to give again.

The extra offering was counted and the notices continued.
The round number was passed!

Maria, one of the church wardens, wtih Lukaleni

Kani with his son Lukaleni.  Kani works underground in a local gold mine

After the service, I was invited for lunch along with other members of the church and Father Leslie, to the home of a lay minister, Joe, who also lives in Khuma.  He had been leading a separate service in an “outstation” (mission church) in an extension (fresh homes recently built) of the township.  Joe’s wife (Martha) had done a wonderful spread with a range of lovely food, most of which was recognisable, all very tasty- as well as home made ginger beer!

I am on the receiving end of the gift of hospitality.

Their home was delightful, and very similar to many modern bungalows which we might see in England.  My ideas of township dwellings were being challenged.  There were some very basic homes around, but Joe & Martha’s   was a house which they had really made home.

As we ate I chatted and listened to a member of the church council, who told me of the pressures of living in a township now: fear of crime, gangs, and how Khuma was struggling as income of its residents fell due to the local mines closing. “You can no longer leave your door and window open at night,” she commented.  Similar feelings to many people in the UK perhaps, but these are on a different scale I sensed.  But, in Khuma there is also a real sense of community, which those who live in the suburbs do not seem to have in the same way- and perhaps we have lost this in our UK suburbs too.

As I was driven back after lunch by George and Pule, my mind was almost overcome by the range of experiences I had been privileged to receive.  I cannot pretend to understand the very complex nature of life in South African society in all its different settings.  But I do know that there are faithful Christians, who earnestly want to see God’s kingdom come in their lives and communities.  So the church here needs to equip and train its members to be true followers, disciples of the Lord Jesus- to be the means by which God’s kingdom may come. 

What about those of us who are privileged to know something of this situation, whether by visit or information? We are to pray for South Africa, as well as our own nation, that God will use us  and people just like us to grow his church and be co-workers with Him in building the Kingdom of God.

Richard 5.20pm Sun 5^th Feb 2012