One Face in a Million Book 1: Mu Shangaaniana. William Bond
and they made plans to correspond with each other. It had occurred to Christine that she was again going to be the only young white person on the mission station. There had certainly been times when she had disliked Sara and had wanted to be rid of the problems which she had caused, but now, she suspected that she would actually miss her.
After the Rankins departed from Tavani, their house stood empty. The Rankins were no longer seen at church services or anywhere else on the mission station, and Christine did experience a strange sense of loss. During January, Christine read some of the books she had been given, and she and Mother worked on some of the jigsaw puzzles that had come from Sara. At times, Christine felt that the days were just dragging by, but on other occasions, she regretted that her summer vacation seemed to be passing by so quickly. In time, another family would undoubtedly occupy the Rankins’ home, and they might have young people in the family that might be companions for Christine when she was at Tavani, but another family would not arrive before she needed to return to school in Swaziland.
It often seemed like she had mixed feelings. Although she was frequently lonely and bored at Tavani, she did like being home with Mother. She wasn’t anxious to go back to school, yet she was eager to see Jim, and she was hopeful that a relationship with him might develop. With Sara gone, she was also hopeful that her relationship with other girls would improve. Only time, of course, would tell if the name-calling would end. Although she had resented Sara and had often wanted to avoid her, she now realized that she would not have a traveling companion when she made the long trip back to Swaziland. She hated the thought of making that trip alone, and it was with mixed feeling that she realized her summer break was nearly over.
On the day of her departure, Mother and Christine arose early so that they would arrive in Manjacaze before the train departed for Xai Xai. They had an early breakfast, and Christine found room in her suitcase for her new underwear, her new sweater, and the fruitcake which Mother had recently made for her.
The road between Tavani and Manjacaze resembled two paved sidewalks which ran parallel with each other. The road didn’t get a lot of use, and it provided a fairly smooth ride until one met a vehicle or needed to pass a Shangaan who was proceeding more slowly in a horse-drawn wagon. Departing from the paved surfaces could be done, but there was always a risk of getting stuck on the roadway’s sandy shoulders.
Although it was early in the day, the breeze that came through the car windows was too warm to be refreshing. The sky was cloudless, and it promised to be a hot day. The landscape was familiar to Christine, but she really felt no attachment to it. She had lived in Tavani and in Swaziland—and she felt no great attachment to either place. She had lived in Africa for nearly eighteen years, but she had always suspected that Africa would never be her permanent home. Even the missionaries that she knew had no plans to remain in Africa after they reached the age for retirement. Mother had chosen to remain in Africa, thus far, because this was where she intended to do her life’s work, and she was too young to retire, but Christine had never desired to become a missionary, and she instinctively knew that her home would not always be in Africa.
Some of her classmates’ parents were permanent residents of Swaziland or South Africa, but others of them had come from England or the United States. Some of her acquaintances intended to continue their education in England, but Christine suspected that she would eventually go to the United States, if for no other reason than there was the fact that she had relatives in Michigan. In their various conversations, they had talked of Christine continuing her education in Michigan, but no definite plans for that were yet in place.
About forty minutes later, they pulled into Manjacaze, and Mother was able to park near the depot. After getting her luggage, the two headed to the depot office to purchase a ticket for the next train to Xai Xai.
They hadn’t been waiting on the platform too long before a shrill whistle made them realize that the train was now slowly approaching the station. Moments later, they heard the screeching metallic sounds of wheels breaking on the rails, the hissing of steam, and a cacophony of other noises that a train can make as it prepares to come to a full stop.
Almost immediately, people began to board the train, so after a kiss and a warm embrace, Christine carried her suitcase to the place where she would board the train. Inside the coach, she quickly found the area where she could place her suitcase, and then, she headed for an available seat by an open window.
Tears had come to Clara’s eyes as she saw her daughter board the train. There was going to be another period of separation, and she instinctively knew that she was going to miss Christine immensely. They would have a few more times together, but there would come a time when she would see Christine off to America. Then, they would be separated by a vast ocean. The reality of that eventuality caused tears to stream down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away and mustered a smile before Christine took her seat by a nearby window in the coach.
Christine returned the smile, and they were able to speak, but at this point, there seemed to be little to say except to acknowledge that they loved each other and were going to miss each other. A few minutes passed, and then, the tranquility of the morning was again interrupted by a couple of blasts from the train’s shrill whistle. There was a strong hissing sound, and then, the coaches suddenly jerked into motion with all the sounds that accompany a steam-driven locomotive when it is commencing to pull a coal car and several coaches toward the next destination.
Christine and her mother held a prolonged wave of farewell until they finally lost sight of each other. Before much time had passed, Manjacaze had receded into the distance, and the train was moving along at a good rate of speed. Christine couldn’t know, of course, that her mother headed up the lonely road to Tavani with tears streaming down her cheeks.
The little narrow-gauge train moved easily across the nearly level landscape, but when it came into a hilly region, its pace slowed significantly whenever the locomotive had to negotiate a long or challenging incline. Because it was a hot day, the windows on the coach were open, and a warm but welcome breeze could be felt. Now and then, however, smoke from the steam engine could swirl through the open windows of the coaches, and one’s clothing could get soiled with soot or even damaged because of tiny embers. Because of this, a passenger was wise not to wear one’s best clothing when riding on the train.
Christine had hardly noticed the elderly black woman sitting by her side or the other poorly clad natives that shared their coach. She had observed that she was the only white person in this coach, but that was not unusual, for whites were a minority in many parts of Africa. Though whites and Asians lived in various parts of the continent, a majority of folks were people of color. In this part of the world, one’s skin color was most likely to be dark tan, various shades of brown, or even coal black.
Her thoughts were on her mother and on all that she was now leaving behind. She always felt melancholy when she was returning to school, and she hated making the long trip alone. Sadly, it would be several months before she would see her mother again. If parting was hard this time, she thought how much more difficult it would be when she finally left Africa to pursue her education in a distant land. That would be a far more difficult farewell, for she might be gone for years. The length of her stay abroad couldn’t be known, at this time, but her days of living in Tavani were largely in the past. It seemed likely that she and Mother were apt to be separated for long periods of time as the years went by.
Although she gazed out the window, she gave little thought to the passing landscape.
Some of the land was suitable for agriculture, and some was not. Here and there, they passed small villages that looked much like the Shangaan settlement near Tavani. Some of the land was used for subsistence farming or grazing, but one could also see cultivated areas that were planted in sugarcane, sisal, peanuts, or pineapples. Interspersed with these agricultural areas were stretches of sandy wasteland that contained virtually nothing of interest.
After about two hours, the train pulled into the depot at Xai Xai. Fairly recently, Mozambican officials had decided to rename the place Vila de Joao Belo, but people had become so accustomed to the town’s original name that many had continued to call it Xai Xai.
There were no bridges across the Limpopo River at this location, so people intending to continue